THE ARBOR OF amorous Deuises.
Wherin, young Gentlemen may reade many plesant fancies, and fine deuises: And thereon, meditate diuers sweete Conceites, to court the loue of faire Ladies and Gentlewomen By N. B. Gent.
Imprinted at London by Richard Iohnes, dwelling at the signe of the Rose and Crowne, neere Saint Andrewes Church in Holborne. 1597.
To the Gentlemen Readers: he
•
lth, wealth
▪ and welfa
•
e.
R
•
ght curteous Gentlemen, your absence, this long time of vacation hindered my poore Presse from publish
••
g any pleasing Pamphlet, to recreate your minds, as it was wont:
•
et now, to giue you notice that your old Printer forgetteh not his best friendes, he hath thought i
•
meet to remember his duetifull good wil he beareth to you all, publishing this pleasant Arbor
•
or Gentlemen, beeing many mens workes excellent Poets, and most, not the meanest in estate and degree: and had not the Phenix preuented me of some the best stuffe she furnisht h
•
r nest with of late: this Arbor had hi
•
somewhat t
•
e mote handsomer trimmed vp, beside a larger scope for gentlemen to recreate them selues. Please it you (sweete Gentlemen) to take it in worth as it is, though nothing comparable with your pleasant Arbors of the countrie: view it ouer I pray you, and praise it as you find it: in the meane time (I beseech you) pardon me▪ and p
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otect me against cau
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lling Finde faults that neuer like of any thing, but what they doe themse
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ues, and that,
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or the most part, is nothi
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g at all: so shall I acknowledge my selfe most bounden vn
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o your flourishing
d
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gr
••
, and pray vnto God to keepe you al
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in health: and such
〈◊〉
are in the countrey, God send them a happy and speedy re
••
rn
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to Lond
••
, to the pleasure of God, their h
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rts content,
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nd to the reioycing of all Citti
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ins, and specially to the comfort of all poore men of Trades.
Yours, most bounden, R. I. Printer.
A LOVERS FARWEL To his Loue and ioy.
AD
•
e mine onely ioy whose absence breedes my smart,
whose parting did a
•
aze my minde & damped m
•
ch my hart▪
Adue mine onely loue, whose loue is li
•
e to m
•
▪
whose loue once lost▪ no life can tast within my corps to be.
Adue mine onely friend whose friendship cannot fade,
whose faith is firme vpon the which my health and hope is stayed,
Adue the vitall spirits o
•
these my
•
ences all,
for dead each parte will still remaine vntill I heare thee call.
Farewell my selfe and all, farewell more deare then li
•
e:
Farewel the constant da
•
e on earth: farewel Vlisses wise.
Sith spite ha
•
h playde his parte, to parte vs now in twaine,
my helpe
•
h
•
l rest in h
•
ppy hope, till we two meet ag
•
ine:
W
•
ich hope doth he
••
e my heart aboue the hauty heauen▪
and carrieth m
•
with good s
•
ccesse a
•
oue the Plannets
•
eo
•
en.
Si
•
h that the Sunne m
•
st lodge within the Ocean seas.
As oftime as the houres be with in foure co
••
leat daye:
So must Danaes face be rownd and horned thrise
and for h
•
r light a debter be vnto Sir P
•
ebus wise:
Before I shal enioy the presence of my choyce,
till which time comes, Ile cloy the skies with plaint
•
& bitter voyce▪
That Fortune now which frownes with all her fatal dames,
shal h
•
ue for prayse most piteo
•
s plaint
•
, and infamie for names:
Vntil the rime that she doth turne her face againe.
and giue me her that m
•
y redresse my greeuous pinch ing paine:
God graunt that none beholde thy face a
•
d beautie braue,
thy comely co
•
ps and featured forme and countenance so graue,
Thy haires in tresses tyed, thy vaines so Azure blew,
thy Lilly with the rose in che
•
kes doth shew a gallant hew:
Thy eyes wi
•
h smiling babes, thy lips vermillion like.
thy dimple in thy chin so braue, thy teeth as Christal white,
Thyneck so white and fairt, thy breast so
•
ound and so
•
t,
thy fingers fine and body small which I embraste so oft.
No pen can wel describe▪ no
•
wit can wel declare,
thy feature, forme and comelynes, thy beauty passing rare.
•
pelles cease to paint, Pigmalion leaue to graue,
Da
•
e Nature hath despisd your workes, and hath made one more braue.
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The graces all attend the Muses make request,
still for to waite vpon my deare, and be at her behest:
Blush now you bashles dames that vaunt of beau
•
ie rare,
for let me see who dares come in, and with my deare compare▪
No, no, you are all fled, you walke like owles by nigh
•
,
my deare so fayre, that of the world she is the onely
•
ight:
Then farewell heart and ioy till time hath run her race▪
farewell delight, welcome annoy, till that I see thy face.
Which will delig
•
t my heart, which wil reuiue my minde
which will delight my senceles corps, which ioy none else can finde,
Take heere my speech last spent▪ vntill thy home returne.
take here my heart, but leaue the corps which shal in torments burne▪
My scalding sighes Ile send throughout the skies to thee,
my teares shall water still my couch, vn
•
ill thou beest with mee.
Finis.
A Louers complaint.
THe restles race that I haue run,
the peril and the paine
That I from time to time haue past,
and dayly doe sustaine,
Doth make me deeme that when I first
this light began to see,
The
•
tarrie skie no planet had,
that happy was for me.
The fatall Sisters three, alas,
my file doe twist awry,
And Fortune, she in frowning sorte
from me doth swiftly fli
•
:
Which makes my carking cares abound,
thus am I wrapt in woe,
But how to finde reliefe, alas,
poore man I doe not knowe.
When that Sir Phebus decks the skie
with his faire fulgent light,
I wish alas to gaine with teares
the dim and darkesome night▪
And when that V
•
sp
•
r with hir vaile
exiles the glittering Sun,
I will again
•
the dawning day
the night might ouer-run▪
Thus neither day nor night can serue
to mitigate my griefe,
But still I pine and liue in woe,
and cannot finde reliefe.
Such torments tosse my sences sure
and ransack euery vaine,
That I doe wish to end my care,
the graue I might obtaine.
The cause that coucheth care, alas,
with in my secret brest.
Is fell Cupid
•
es dreadfull wound.
chiefe cause of mine vnrest:
My suits, my plaints and friendline
•
.
is guarded with d sdaine:
And wofully whith Iphis I
must passe my dayes in paine.
I liue and loue, I serue in hope,
yet day by day I die,
Yet doth my loue disdainefully
her friendship sure denie:
The want wherof in forrowing sort,
to mourne doth me constraine,
Ye Gods aboue graunt grace to me.
abate my carking paine.
And suffer Cupid God of loue,
to d
•
aw his regent da
••
e,
And piercing ioyes to wound my deare
that she may rue my smarte:
And salue my wound that now am prest
to die in seas of woe▪
You heauens, your helping aides I craue,
to me your fauours shew.
Finis.
A poeme of a Mayde forsaken.
AS late I lay within an Arbor sweete,
•
he ay
•
e to take amongst the flowers faire:
I heard a Mayd to mourne and sorely weepe,
That thithe
•
vsd to make her oft repayre.
Alas, poore wench, quoth she, drownd in despaire▪
What folly
•
ond doth breed me my vnrest?
Will spitfull loue increase continuall care,
To worke her wrath on me aboue the rest.
And will she still increase my sorrowing sighes,
With pinching paine of heart, with torments torne▪
Are these rewards, or are they Cupids slights,
To kill the heart which is with sorrowes worne?
Then witnes beare, you woods and wasts about▪
You craggie rockes, with hilles and valleyes low,
Recording birds, you beasts both strong and stout,
You fishes deafe, you waues that ebbe and flow.
Heere haue in minde that loue hath slaine a hart
As true as trueth vnto her froward friend,
Whose dying death shal shew her faithfull parte,
What so my deare hath alwayes of me deemd.
The red brest then did seeme to be the Clarke.
And shrowded her vnder the mosse so greene,
He calles the birds each one to sing a parte:
A
•
ight full st
•
ange and wo
•
thy to be seene,
The Larke▪ the Thrush and Nightingale,
The Linnets sweete, and eke the Turtles true,
The chattering Pie, the lay, and eke the Quaile,
The Thrustle-Cock that was so blacke of hewe.
All these did sing the prayse of her true heart,
And mournd her death with dolefull musick sound:
Each one digged earth, and plyed so their part,
Till that she was close closed vnder ground.
Finis.
The counsell of a friend to one in loue.
CLime not too high, for feare thou catch a fall,
Seeke not to build thy nest within the Sunne,
Refrraine the thing which bringeth thee to thrall,
Least when too late thou findste thy sel
•
e vndone:
Cause thy desires to rest and sleepe a space,
And let thy fancie take her resti
•
g place.
The Tiger f
•
erce cannot by
•
orce be tamed,
The Eagle wilde wil not be brought to fist,
Nor womens mindes at any time be framed,
To doe ought more then what their fancies li
•
t:
Then cease thy pride▪ and let thy plumes downe fall,
Least soaring still thou purchasts endles thrall.
Finis.
A Ladies complaint for the losse of her Loue.
COme follow me you Nymphes,
Whose eyes are neuer drie,
Augment your wayling number nowe
With me poore Em
•
lie.
Giue place ye to my plaintes,
Whose ioyes a
••
pincht with paine▪
M
•
loue, alas through foule mish
•
p,
Most cruell death ha
•
h slaine,
What wight can wel, alas,
my sorrowes no
•
indite?
I waile & want my new desire
I lack my new delite,
Gush out my trickling teares,
Like mighty floods of raine,
My Knight
•
las, through foule mishap
Most cruell death hath
•
laine▪
Oh hap alas most hard,
Oh death why didst thou so?
W
•
y could not I embrace my ioy,
for me that bid
•
uch woe?
False Fortunu out, alas,
Woe worth thy subtill tr
•
ine,
W
•
ereby my loue through foule mishap,
Most cruell death hath slaine.
Rock me a sleepe in woe,
You wofull Sisters three,
Oh cut you off my fatall threed,
Dispatch poore Emelie.
Why should I liue, alas,
And linger thus in paine?
Farewell my life, sith that my loue
Most cruell death hath slaine.
Finis.
The lamentable complaint of a Louer.
ACcord your notes vnto my wofull songs,
You chirping birds which hant the cloudy skie,
Cease off your flight▪ and come to heare my wrongs
Compeld by loue▪ mixed with crue
••••
▪
Leaue off I say, and help me to lament
My wofull dayes, vntill my time be spent.
With sorrow great I passe a way the time▪
The which too long I feele vnto my paine,
Too childish is this fond conceit of mine▪
That voyde of hope doth helpelesse still remaine▪
Yet wil I rest til time doth fu
•
ther serue,
That A
•
ropos doth me of life bereaue.
But fie fond foole, I complaine of disease,
And faultlesse Fortune I begin to blame,
Venus her selfe doth seeke me
•
or to please,
In causing me to loue so rare a dame:
But if (
•
aire Nimph) I might enioy thy sight,
Thy fauour fa
•
re would force in me delight.
But I am bannisht from thy comely hew,
Oh thy sweet loue, but yet I wil remaine
For euer thine as perfect louer true,
Without all guile, although thou me disdaine:
And th
•
s I end, although not rest content,
Vntil such time wy wretched dayes are spent▪
Finis.
A Poeme bo
•
h pithie and pleasant.
IF right were rackt and ouer-runne,
And power take parte wi
•
h open wrong▪
If force by feare doe yeeld too soone,
The lack is like to last too long:
If God
•
ot goods shalbe vnplac
•
d▪
If right for riches leaues his shape,
If world for wisdome be imbrac'd,
The guesse is great much hur
•
may hap
Among good thinges I prooue and find▪
The quiet life doth most abound,
And sure to the contented mi
•
d,
There is no tiches may be found▪
Riches doth hate to be content,
Rule is enmie to quiet ease,
Power for the most part is vnpacient
And seldome likes to llue in peace,
I heard a Shepheard once compare,
T
•
at q
•
iet nig
••
s he had m
•
re sleepe,
And ha
•
more m
•
rrie dayes to spare,
Then he which ought his Flock of sheepe.
I would not haue it thought heereby,
The Dolphin swim I meane to teach,
N
•
yet to learne the Faulcon flie,
I roue not
•
o farre past my reach▪
But as my part aboue the rest,
Is wel to wish and good to will:
So till the breath doth fayle my bsest,
I shal not stay to wish you still.
A Poeme.
THe time was once that I haue li
•
ed free,
And wandred heere▪ and where me liketh best,
But in my wandring I did chance to see
A Damsel faire which causd in me small rest:
For at her sight mine he
•
rt was wounded sore,
That liued free and voyd of loue before
Which when I felt, I got me to my bed,
Thinking to rest my heauie heart: but then
There came strange thoughts in
•
o my troubled hed,
Which made me thinke vpon my thoughts a gen:
And thus in thinking on my thoughts did sleep▪
And dreamed that another di
•
her keepe.
With this same dreame I sudainly awoke,
A
•
d orderly did marke it euery poynt:
And with the same so great a griefe I tooke,
That as one scard, I quaked euery ioynt:
Yet at the last supposd it but a dreame,
My troubled spirits did reuiue againe.
Finis.
Fantasma.
IN fortune as I lay, my fortune was to finde
Such fancies as my carefull thought, had brought into my minde,
And when each one was gone to rest, full soft in bed to lie,
I would haue slept, but then the watch did follow still mine eye:
And sodainly I saw a sea of sorrowes prest,
Whose wicked waues of sharpe repulse brought me vnquie
•
rest.
I saw this world, and how it went, each state in his degree,
And that from wealth graunted is both life and liber
•
ie:
I saw how Enuie it did raigne, and bare the greatest price,
Yet greater poyson is not found within the Cockatrice:
I also saw how that disdaine, of
•
times to forge my woe,
Gaue me the cup of bit
•
er sweete, to pledge my mortall foe▪
I also saw ho
•
that deceit, to rest no place could finde,
But sti
•
l constraind an endles paine, to follow natures kinde.
I also saw most strange, how Nature did forsake
the blood that in her womb was wrought, as doth the loathed snake▪
I s
•
w how fancie would remaine, no longer then
•
er lust,
And as the winde how she doth ch
•
nge, and is not for to trust:
I saw how stedfastnes did flie, with winges of often change,
A bird, b
•
t truely seldome seene, her nature is so strange:
I saw how pleasant Time did passe, as Flowers in the Mead,
To day that riseth r
•
d as Rose, to morrow lyeth dead.
I saw my time how it did run, as sand out of the Glasse,
Euen as each hower appoynted is, from tide
•
o tide to passe:
I saw the yeares that I had spent, and losse of all my gaine,
And how the sport of youthfull playe
•
, my folly did retaine▪
I saw how that the little Ant in Summer still doth runne,
To se
•
ke her foode, whereby to liue in winter for to come:
I saw eke vertue, how she sate the threed of life to spinne,
Which sheweth the end of euery thing before it doeth begin▪
And when al these I saw, with many moe perdie,
In me my thoughts each one had wrought a perfect propertie▪
And then I sayd vnto my selfe, a Lesson this shalbe,
For other that shal after come, for to beware by me▪
Thus al the night I did deuise which way I might constraine.
To forme a plot that wit might worke the branches in my braine.
Finis.
The complaint af one being in loue.
LEaue me O life, the prison of my minde,
Since nought but death can take away my lo
•
e▪
For she which likes me wel is most vnkinde,
And that which I loue best my death d
•
th prooue.
Loue in her eyes my hopes againe reuiue,
Hopes in my thoughts doe kindle my desires,
Desire enflam'd through loue and b
•
auty striue,
Ti
•
she (displeasd with lou
•
) my death conspires:
That loue for me, and I
•
or Loue doe cal,
Yet she denies because she graunts not al.
Finis.
A Louers resolution.
TRue, though vntried, de
•
irous in despaire,
Patient with paine, faithful though yet not sound,
In car
•
s vnknowne my youthful daies I weare,
More s
•
re t
•
en safe my youth and beauty bound.
What shal I say? the time serues not to waile▪
Let it suffice, my faith shal neuer faile.
Finis▪
A Louers complain
•
.
TH
•
fir
•
to see my wrongs for anger bur
•
eth▪
〈◊〉
aire in
•
aine for mine
•
ffec
•
ion weepeth,
The sea to ebbe for griefe his f
••
wi
•
g turneth,
The earth with pittie dul the centre keepeth,
Fame is with wonder blazed,
〈…〉
a way for so
••
ow,
Place stan
•
eth still amazed,
To see my n
•
ght
•
of euill which haue no morrow.
Alas, onely she no pitty taketh
To see my mis
•
rie
•
, but chast and cruel,
My fall her glorie mak
••
h,
Ye
•
••
ll her eyes giues to my flames their fuel.
Fire burne me quick, till sence of burning leaue,
Ay
•
e let me drawe my breath no more in anguish,
Sea drowne me in thee, of teadious life bereaue me,
Earth take this earth, wherin these spirits languish:
Fam
•
sa
•
I was not borne,
Time d
•
aw my dismall hower,
Place see my graue vp-torne,
Fire, Aire, sea▪ earth, Fame, time, place, shew your power:
Alas, from all their helps I am exiled▪
For hers am I, and death feares her displeasure:
Oh death thou art beguiled,
Though I be hers, she makes of me no treasure.
Finis.
A sweet lullabie.
COme little babe, come silly soule,
Thy fathers shame, thy mothers griefe,
Borne as I dou
•
t to all our dole,
And to thy selfe vnhappie chiefe:
Sing Lullabie and lap it warme,
Poore sou
•
e that thinkes no cr
•
ature harme.
Thou little thinkst and lesse doost knowe,
The cause of this thy mothers moane,
Thou wantst the wit to waile her wo
•
,
And I my selfe am all alone:
Why doost thou weepe? why doost thou waile?
And knowest not yet what thou doost ayle▪
Com
•
little wretch, ah silly hear
•
,
Mine onely ioy what can I more?
If there be any wrong thy smart,
That may the destinies implor
•
▪
Twas I, I say, against my will,
I wayle the time, but be thou still.
And doest thou smile, oh thy sweete face,
Would God himsel
•
e he might thee see,
No do
•
bt thou wouldst
•
oone purchace
〈◊〉
I know right well for thee and mee:
But come to mother babe and play,
For fath
•
r false is fled away.
Sweet boy if it by fortune chance,
Thy father home againe to send,
If death do strike me with his launce,
Yet mayst thou me to him cōmend:
If any aske thy mothers name,
Tell how by loue she purchast blame▪
Then will his gentle heart soone yeeld,
I know him of a noble minde.
Although a Lyon in the field,
A Lamb in towne thou shalt him finde:
Aske blessing babe, be not afrayde,
His sugred words hath me betrayde▪
•
hen mayst thou ioy and be right glad,
Although in wo
•
I seeme to moane.
Thy father is no Rascall lad,
A noble youth of blood and boane:
His glancing lookes if he once smile,
Right honest women may begui
•
e.
Come little boy and rocke a sleepe▪
Sing lullabie and be thou still,
I that can doe nought else but weepe,
Wil sit by thee and waile my fill:
God blesse my babe and lullabie,
From this thy fathers qualitie.
Fi
•••
.
A Poem
•
.
T THe work of worth that Nature finely fram'd,
H Hope of the heart, that highest harts aspire:
R Reason set downe that secret wisdome nam'd,
O Onely the sweete that honour can desire,
G Grace of
•
he earth, and natures onelie glorie,
M More then most faire was spoke of long agoe:
O Oh heauenlie starre that is the shepheards stay:
R Read who it is, but one there is no moe,
T This is the Saint that Wit and Reason se
•
ue,
O Of such account as vertue doth regard,
N Note who it is that doth this fame deserue,
E Excellencie giues each honour his reward.
Finis.
A Poeme.
M MVses attending all on P
•
llas traine,
A A mongst the rest was one, though not the least,
C Carrying the minde that most might honour gaine,
K Kinde yet wi
•
h care that might become her best:
W Wise as a woman, men can be no more,
I Iudge who it is, I may not tell her name,
L Loue of the life that vertue doth adore:
L Life of the loue that gaines the highest fame.
I Ioyne but the thought of loue and life together,
A And one may finde ano
•
hers excell
•
nce,
M Meere loue, deare life can sorrow neuer withe
•
,
S Such is the power of heauenly prouidence,
Fi
•••
.
Another.
S SIlly poore swaine pul down thy simple pride,
A Angelles are not for beggars to behold,
R Reach not too high for feare thy foote doth slide,
A And haples hope doo prooue a slender hold.
H Hold downe thy head, thy hand is not thine owne▪
A A sunne, a sunne hath put out hoth thine eyes.
S See in thy selfe how thou art ouerthrowne:
T There is no comfort in extremities,
I In high good-wil let honour be thy guide,
N No cruell thought can rest in kinde aspect,
G Good-nature sees that reason cannot hide,
S Sweet be the ends that follow such effect.
Finis.
Another.
K KNowledge doth much in
••
re of most content,
A And reason sees▪ when loue hath lost his eyes,
T Time hath his course, and vertue her intent,
H Honor her selfe when other fancies dies,
A A wonder lasts but onely for a day.,
R Reason regards but honors worthines,
I In vertues loue can honor not decay:
N Nothing but heauen is perfect happines.
R Rare is the eye that neuer lookes awry.
A And sweet the thought that neuer
•
ounds amis,
T True is the heart that guideth such an
•
ye,
C Careful the minde where such discretion is,
L Long is the life where loue doth draw the line,
I Ioyfull the hope that such a heart vpholdeth,
T Time is the threed no fancie can vntwine.
F Faire is the hap▪ that such a face beholdeth.
Finis.
Another.
C CVrtesie carries all the world to loue,
A Affection serues, where vertue fauour giues,
N Neere to the heauens of highest hearts behoue,
D Deer is the thought whereby discretion liues,
I Ioy of the eye, and Iewel of the heart,
S Saint of the shape that seruice doth adore,
H High of the honor of Mineruaes art:
E Except▪ exrepted but one there is no more.
Finis.
Another.
S SWeet is the flower that neuer fadeth hue,
V Vnmatcht the mind that neuer means amis,
T Tresure the heart tha
•
cannot prooue vntrue
H High such a saint in whom such honor is,
W Where such a flower, as faire as sweet doth spring
E Except but one, behold the onely ground,
L Loue such a ground, a Garden for a King:
L Looke in the world, the like is hardly found.
Finis.
A
pretie Poe
•
e.
A Trembling hand, but not a traitors hear
•
,
Writing for feare and fearing for to write,
Loath to reueale, yet willing to impart,
Such secret thoughts as
•
it not euery sigh
•
.
Must leaue to you in sweet conceit to know
•
he
•
,
For I haue sworne that I will neuer shew them.
I know not what, but sure the griefe is greene,
I know not when, but once it was not euer,
I know not how, but secretly vnseene,
And make no care if it be ended neuer,
And yet a wound that wastes me all with woe,
And yet I would not that it were not so▪
But oh sweete God, what doe the
•
e humo
•
s moue?
Alas, I feare, God shield it be not loue.
Finis.
A Louer in despaire.
BVrne burne desi, e, while thy poore fuel lasteth,
Young wood enflam'd doth yeeld the brauest fire,
Though long before in smothering heat it wasteth
With froward will to conquer his desire:
But fire supprest once breaking into flame,
Doth rage till all be wasted in the same.
Most tyrannous and cruel element,
So to Enuie the Substance of thy life,
As to consume thy vital nourishment,
Till death it selfe doe end this mortal strife:
Yet worke thy wil on me O raging fire,
And lea
•
e no coales to kindle new desire.
Ne let the glowing heat of ashe
•
left,
Yeeld to my fainting sences fresh reliefe,
But as my soule from comfort thou hast re
•
t,
So end my life in this consuming griefet
For wel I see, nor wit nor wil now serueth,
To recompence desire as he deserueth.
Finis.
A
Dreame of the arra
•
gnement o
•
Desir
•
.
A Court was lately kept in secret of conceit.
To cal desire vnto his death, or cleare
•
im of deceit,
•
ayre Beautie was the Queene, and loue was all her Lawes,
Who had appoynted per
•
em sence to sit vpon the cause.
The wretches that accus'd desire of ill desart,
Where Enuie, packt with Iniurie, to kil a careful heart▪
The whole Inditemen read against desire, was this,
That where he most auowed best he ment not least amis▪
The Lawyers that did plead against this poore desire,
Where wicked wit with eloquence, whom hate and wrong did hire.
But to defend desire was plaine simplicitie,
Who knew the bounds and kept the bonds of perfect amitie:
A grand Inquest in haste was panneld by the Court.
Of whom Tom-troth was foreman made▪ and so begun the sport.
Suspect did halfe affirme, that witnes should not neede,
And yet selfe-will would faine haue sworne that al was true indeed.
But reason wild regard, the treason should be tryed,
And deepe conceit should be the man that should the trueth decide.
Suspect in Natures sence layd shrewdly to his charge,
But care had brideled Natures course, loue neuer liu'd at large,
And conscience plaine replyed in reasons secrete thought,
That good wines need no Iuie-bush, and eloquence is naught.
•
o sound the depth of all did sences all assemble,
And poore goodwill came swearing in, that loue could not dissemble▪
When patience fully heard the pleading of the case,
She call'd to reason to reueale who had deserud di
•
grace,
Good-wil was earnest still▪ and
•
ware that liue or die,
Suspect did sore abuse desire, for louers could no
•
lie.
With that the people laught, and reason chargd Tom-troth
To giue vp vnto perfect
•
ence the verdict of his oath.
The Iurors were the thoughts that did posse the minde,
Where flatterie was but fancies foole while faith did fauour finde▪
Who when they had at ful considered of the cause,
Gaue Enui
•
vp for enimie to loue and al his lawes.
And wit was but a foole to follow false suspect,
And eloquence was little worth to carrie such effect.
And hate and Enuie both were had in great disgrace,
And eloquence for taking parte, was hissed out of place.
And sweet desire was cleare, in Reasons secret sence,
And perfect sence gaue iudgement so, and quit him of offence.
And beautie that before was thought did quite disdaine him,
Did graunt him fauour by desert, and loue did entertaine him.
Suspect to silence put, good Nature g
•
n to smile,
To heare them iudge to loues disdaine that would desire beguile.
And sweet desire the force of enuies ouerthrow,
And therewithal the Court brake vp, & I awaked so.
Finis.
Brittons Diuinitie.
FRom worldly cares and wanton loues conceit,
Begun in griefe and ended in deceit:
I am coniur'd by hope of happie blis,
VVhere heauenly faith and highest fauour is,
To call my wits and all my thoughts together,
To write of heauen, and of the high-way thither.
The holy spirit of eternall power,
Vouchsafe his grace to guide my soule aright,
That patient heart may finde the happie hower▪
VVhen I may see the glorie of that sight,
That in conceit so fully may content me,
As nought on earth be able to torment me.
I aske no ayde of any earthly muse,
Far be my fancie from such fonde affect:
But in the heauen where highest Angels vse,
To sing the sweet of faithful loues effect,
Among those spirits of especiall grace,
I wish my soule might haue a
•
itting place.
VVhere first the teares of true repentant hart,
VVith faithful hope may happy fauour moue,
And sighing sobs of sorrowe
•
bitter smart,
May see the life of vndeserued loue:
Thence would I craue some excellence deuine▪
To set my foote in this discourse of mine.
To iudge of heauen it is a place of ioy,
VVhere happy soules haue their eternall rest,
VVhere sweet delights doe suffer no annoy,
But all things good and onely on the best.
Where comfotts moer then
•
an can comprehend,
And such contents as neuer can haue
•
nd▪
It is the Throne ofhigh
〈◊〉
sweete,
The God of power, of glorie and of grace,
Where vertue dwe
•
s, and her adherents meete,
In ioyful feare to see his heauenly face▪
Where holy saints and highe
••
Angels sing▪
An Alleluia to their heauenly King.
There is the day, and there is neue
•
night,
There euer ioy, and there is neuer sorrow,
There neuer wrong, bu
•
there is euer right,
There eue
•
haue, and neuer need to borrow.
There euer▪ loue, and there is neuer hate,
Neuer but there was euer such a state.
There all the graces doe agree in one,
There liueth brethren in one
•
inke of loue,
There all the saints doe ferue one King alone,
Who giues the blis of highest hearts behoue.
There is the place of perfect paradice,
Where conscience liues and comfort neuer die
•
▪
There is the Sun, the beautie of the skie,
The Moone and Starres, the candles of the night,
Th
•
re is the essence of that hea
•
enly eye,
That blinds the proud and giues the humble light,
There is the rain
•
bow bended by his hand,
Who doth both heauen, earth, se
•
, & hel cōmand
There sitteth God in glorie of hi
•
throne,
With Virgins, saints and Angels all attended,
Who in his
•
re hath Kingdomes ouerthrowen,
And in his loue hath little things defended,
Whose glorie more then may by man be knowen,
And glorie most is in his mercy showen.
There doth he sit in highest of his power,
Calling the poore vnto his
•
ich reliefe,
Sowing the sweete that killeth euerie sower,
Giuing the salue that healeth euery griefe:
Makieg them liue that lo
•
g were dead before▪
And liuing
•
o, that they can die no more.
By him alone the dumbe doe speake ag
•
ine,
O
•
him alone the blinde receiue their seeing,
With him alone is pleasure without pain,
In him alone haue blessed hearts their beeing:
To him alone, and onely but vnto him,
All glorie due that al the world may doe hi
•
▪
Now haue I writ, though far beneath the worth,
Of highest H
•
auen, what happie hart conceiuet
•
Now wil I trie in order to set forth,
Direction such
•
s neuer hope deceiueth,
How care may climbe the hill of happines
Where is the heauen of highest blessednesse.
Grace is the gro
••
d of euery good that is,
The ground once good, how can the work be ill▪
Then that the minde may not be lead amisse,
Beseech the helpe of his most blessed will:
Whose onely word
••
ts downe the pa
••
age be
••
Of humble soules
•
o their de
•
i
•
ed
•
est▪
Begin to leaue, and make an end to loue,
Such wanton thoughts as wofull sorrow giue,
Be once resolu'd and neuer doe remoue,
To liue to die, as thou mayst die to li
••
:
Which hell to hate, and seeke for heauenly bli
•
Read of the world, and tell me what it is.
The world (in
•
rueth) is b
••
•
wof
•
ll vale,
Where griefe for grasse, and si
•
nes doe grow for feed,
Where substance, sence and s
•
ules are set to sale,
While hoorders heape that naked people need:
And for the gaine but of a simple groat,
One man wil seeke to cut anothers throate▪
What is the
•
e here that can con
•
ent the hart?
That knowes content or what it doth containe:
What thought so swee
•
but brings as sower a smart?
What pleasure such but breeds a greater paine?
What thing so good but prooues in fine so euill?
As (but for God) would bea
•
e men to the deuill▪
What is the earth? the labour of the life.
What is the sea? a gulfe of grislie lakes.
Wh
•
t is the ayre? a stuffe of filthie strife.
What is the fire? the spoyle of that it takes.
Since these are al whence euerie thing doth spring
What is the world, bu
•
euen a woful thing?
What thing is man? a clod of mirie clay,
Slime of the earth, a slaue to filthie sinne,
Springs like a weed, and so doth weare away,
Goes to the earth where first he did begin:
Thinke with thy selfe, when thou thy selfe art suc
•
What is in man that man should be so much?
What hath the world to leade thy minde to loue?
In true effect, a fardle full of toyes,
For wey the pith what euerie man doth prooue,
The perfect Gems are most vnperfect ioyes:
Consider all what fancie bringeth forth,
The best conceit will fall out nothing worth.
What worldlie thinges doe follow fancie most?
Weal
•
h beautie loue, fine diet, honour, fame
What finds aff
•
ct? both loue and labour lost,
D
•
sdai
•
e▪ disease▪ dishonour, death and shame.
Where care and sorrow, death and dead
•
ie strife▪
Doo rule the roste in this accursed life▪
What thing is beautie? a colour pu
•
cklie gone.
And what is wealth when riches fall to rust?
What thing is loue? a toy to thinke vpon▪
Fine diet, drosse to feede a filthie lust:
What worldlie honor oft vnworthie praise?
What ease, the cause whereby the life decayes?
What is disdaine? the scorne of proud conceit,
And what disease, the death of discontent?
Dishonor next the fruit of fond deceit.
And what is death? the end of ill intent.
Now what is shame? a shamefull thing to tel▪
What is the world but wickeds way to hel?
For beasts, for birds, for fishes, flowers and trees,
And all such thinges created for our vse,
What thing is man to take such things as these,
By want of grace to turne vnto abuse?
Oh wretched world, when man that shuld be best
In beastly thing
•
proou
•
s worse then all the rest.
Thus haue I shew'd the world and wh
•
t is,
A wicked place and ful of wretched woes,
A sincke of sinne shut out from heauenly blis,
Where lacke of grace doth wit and r
•
ason loose:
So vile a thing as who in kinde doth prooue it.
Will soone confesse he hath no cause to loue it.
Now how to leaue this loath some life of outs,
The h
•
tefull hel the ground of euerie griefe,
Implore the helpe of those assured powers,
Who neuer faile the faithfull soule reliefe:
Lay by these thoughts that are to be abhord,
And set thy heart vpon the heauenlie Lord.
First know thy God, and what a God he is▪
Without beginning and can haue no end,
Who in his loue created onely his,
And by his hand doth eue
•
his defend▪
Whose glorious essence of his excellence,
Makes highest powers to tremble at his presence▪
He made the world and what it doth containe,
Onely but man he made vnto his loue,
And mans good will was his desired gaine,
Till proud attempt did high displeasure mooue▪
He plagu'd his pride, yet when he saw his paine.
He gaue the salue that heald the wound againe.
He gaue the rules to guide the soule aright,
VVhat it should doe, and what it should not doe,
He shew'd the su
•
me of his desires delight,
And what the heart should set it selfe vntoo:
And in t
•
e good of his most gracious will▪
He shew'd the good that healed euerie ill.
He gaue the sunne, the moone and starres a course,
That they obserue according to his will:
He makes the tides to take their due recourse,
And sets the earth where it doth settle stil
•
▪
He made the substance of each element,
And sets his foote vpon the firmament.
He giues vs knowledge, and we will not know him
He bids vs aske, and we wil neuer mooue him:
He bids vs come▪ and we are running from him:
He giues vs life, and yet we neuer loue him:
He is our King, and we doe not respect him:
He is our God, and yet we doe neglect him.
And nought but man that can o
•
dare deuise,
How to offend that holy wil of his,
In onely man that cursed humor lyes,
That makes no care
•
o run his course amis,
But day by day doth more and more offend him.
Whose onely hand doth from all hurt defend him▪
Vngrateful man whom God did onely make,
In loue to loue, and with his loue preserueth,
And for his loue endured for his sake
Such death of life as dearest loue deserueth:
What cursed hart would in displeasure mooue him
That giuing all, askes nothing but to loue him.
Oh loue, sweet loue, oh high and heauenly loue,
The onely loue that leads to happie life,
Oh loue that liues for liui
•
g hearts behoue▪
And makes an end of euery hateful strife:
How happie he that kindly can attaine it,
And how accurst that dare for to disdaine it.
Loue was the cause that first we were created,
Loue is the life that we haue giuen to lead,
Loue is the cause we neuer can be hated,
Loue is our life when other life is dead,
Loue is
•
he grace that highest good doth giue,
Learne but to loue, and t'is enough to liue.
First loue thy God that taught
•
hee how to loue,
Then loue the loue that he in loue hath taught thee.
That loue so fixed as nothing can remoue.
The hope of life that highest loue hath wroght thee
Thus if thou loue, thy loue will be a friend,
To gaine the life where loue wil neuer end.
Finis.
A Louers complaint.
TO loue, alas, what may I call thy loue,
Thy vncouth loue, thy passions wondrous strange
A mischiefe deadly such as for to prooue,
My heart would shun if power I had to change.
To change said I? recant againe that sound,
Recant I must, recant it shall indeede.
Sith in my heart
•
o many things abound,
As yeelds desart how ere my fancies speed.
Sweet is the lewre that feeds my gazing eyes▪
Sweeter the lookes that whet me hote desire▪
Sweet is the harbor where my quiet lies,▪
But too vnsweet the meanes for to aspire.
Yet must I loue I loue, and so I doe,
Suppose it hard the thing wherat I retcht,
VVho doubts but pearles are for the best to woe,
And greatest minds to highest actions stretch.
Be witnes yet my friendes of all my paine,
And powers diuine that know my iust complaint,
Let all my loue within my barke remaine,
VVhom harmefull force hath neuer power to taint.
Finis.
A dialogue betweene
Caron and
Ama
•
o
•
.
A.
COme Caron come with speede:
C.
What haste? who calleth me?
A.
A woful wight drownd in despaire,
which now hath neede of thee.
C.
Who craues my helpe wants hap:
But what afflicts the so?
A.
My hope is turned to despaire,
My friend become my foe.
Who vow'd her selfe to me,
But periur'd of her faith,
Performeth not she promised,
As carelesse what she saith,
C.
Ah tyrant that she is:
But what doost thou intend
•
▪
A.
That with one death ten thousand deaths
might haue their final end.
C.
Oh man for ferrie boat,
Goe doe what is assignd,
Despairing soules of Louers faind
May here no passage find.
A.
Oh Caron cruell wretch,
That thus hast mocked me:
These hands of mine shall make a boate
To passe in spight of thee.
These eyes that stand with
••
ares
Shal make a flood to flow▪
This heart shal stuffe my sayles with sighes,
And force my boate to goe.
Finis.
A Sonnet.
Giue me leaue to loue thee lasse,
giue me leaue to loue thee:
Thou seest that I can doe no lesse,
then giue me leaue to loue thee.
THy golden hayre, thy forehead faire,
Thy daintie browes, thy eyes so cleare,
Those pretie dimplets to them neere,
Doe cause me thus to loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy comely cheekes like damask rose,
Y
•
mixt with Lillies I suppose,
Euen parted by thy comely nose,
Would cause a man to loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy mouth from thence deuided is,
By such proportion ofblis,
What treasure can be like to this,
that makes me thus to loue thee?
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thine Amber breath, thy pretie chin,
Indimpled where it doth begin,
Doth make me thinke it were a sin,
If that I should not loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy Lilly neck, that piller deere,
Like Alablaster white and cleere,
Twixt vpright shoulders doth appeare,
To make a man to loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy long smooth arme, thy silke softe hand,
I wish were to my neck a band-
So might I let thee vnderstand,
how well that I doe loue thee.
Giue me leaue▪ &c.
Vpon thy breasts more white then snow,
Two pretie pamplets euenly grow,
O
•
venus guifts the richest show,
to make a man to loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy middle sm
•
ll, that curdie rock,
That there lyeth hid vnder thy smock,
Doe mooue my spirits, I doe not mocke,
Exceedingly to loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Thy hidden parts I recommend,
To his conceit who is thy friend,
Whose labour sure doth onely tend,
in part and whole to loue thee.
Giue me leaue▪ &c.
Thy brawned thigh, thy whirled knee,
Thy legge, thine anckle pretilie,
Doe giue such comfort vnto mee
that I of force must loue thee.
Giue me leaue▪ &c.
Thy heele, thy foot, thy toes so straight,
That trip and tread with such a sleight,
Doe with my sences all so fraight
that needs I must thus loue thee.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Each comelie parte from top to toe,
Will breed my sillie heart much woe,
Vnles it please thee for to show
that thou againe wilt loue me.
Giue me leaue, &c.
Then sayd my loue, sith that you say,
And doe protest to loue me aye.
My loue to you Ile not denay,
in sorte as you doe loue me.
Giue me leaue, &c.
So had I leaue to loue my Lasse,
So had I leaue to loue her,
Now should I be too much an Asse.
If I would not then prooue her,
Giue me leaue &c.
Finis.
A Poeme.
MY Mistresse all alone my seruice I did vowe,
She sware, as she a woman was, no loue she did allow.
Alas, then grew my paine, it greu d me to the heart,
My sences then so sencelesse were, as that I felt no smart.
And standing in a maz, as Aspis on the charme,
She said and swore (to saue my life) she wisht no good nor harme,
Alas, what bitter sweet, alas what pleasant paine.
What shiuering heat, what chilling cold, did passe through euery vain
•
And when I would haue sworne her heart would neuer mooue,
By Iesus Christ she tooke that oath, that she did neuer loue.
Alas what was I then? alas what am I now?
Too weake to loue, too strong to die▪ quick, dead, I know not how.
Finis.
A
Poeme.
WEare happie I as others are,
Then might I liue as others doe:
But fortune giues a sundrie share,
And more to one then others too,
The mind doth yet content it selfe▪
What euer fortune doe befall,
And makes no count of cankred pelfe,
Nor cares for any care at all.
For health it is the gift of God,
And giue him thankts, and so haue done,
And want of wealth a heauenly rod,
To punish natures eldest sonne.
Is freinds doe frowne, then farewel they,
This worldlie loue wil neuer last,
And if it be a rainie day,
The sunne wil shine when storme is past,
If troubles come a thwart thy minde,
Why tis a rule, there is no rest,
And he that seekes and cannot finde,
Must take a little for a feast▪
If Ladies loue, then laugh for ioy,
And if they doe not, farewell loue:
If thou be lost, tis but a toy,
And if it hold, it will not mooue.
Faire b
•
a
•
tie soone will fade a way.
And riches q
•
icklie fall to rust,
Thy youthfull yeares will soone decay▪
And age will soone giue ouer lust.
The greatest horse is but a beast,
The highest H
•
wk is but a bird,
The sweetest b
•
nquet but a feast,
The brauest man is but his word.
To promise much doth please th
•
eare,
B
•
t to performe contents the heart.
And where performance commeth, there
A vowed loue can neuer parte.
But they that haue the world at will,
And shrinketh at a shower of raine,
May h
•
p to wish and want there will.
Vnles their hands haue greater gaine,
But hap what will my heart is sette▪
I am resolu'd of this conceit,
If by desert I cannot get,
I loath to liue vpon deceit.
For stayed minde is of that state,
As euerie fortune cannot finde,
For hope nor feare, nor loue, nor hate,
Can euer change an honest minde.
•
ut either die in secrete griefe,
Whe
•
e care shall euer be conceald▪
Then send abroad to seeke reliefe,
And haue a hurt vnkindely heald.
And onely trust in God on high,
For in the world there is no friend,
And loath to liue and long to die,
And know the world sh
•
ll haue an end.
But if I die, and you doe mis,
The sweet con
•
ention might command,
Then thinke but what a death it is▪
To want d
•
sert without demand.
And thinke vpon t
••
nights and dayes.
When beat
•
n braines and broken heart.
Did r
•
adie serue at al assayes,
For to discharge an honest part.
And if that you doe hap to neede,
As other men doe now and than.
Thinke w
•
en that vertue stood in steede,
I. R. was a right honest man.
The time draweth on▪ I heare the bell,
That calleth for death my dearest friend,
But liue or die I wish you well,
Though your vnkindnes were my end.
Finis.
A Poeme vpon this word trueth
▪
IN trueth is trust, distrust not then my trueth,
Let vertue liue, I aske no greater loue,
Of such regard repentance not ensueth,
And hope of heauen doth highest power prooue.
In trueth somtime it was a sweete conceit,
To see how loue and life did dwell together▪
But now in trueth there is so much deceit,
That trueth in deede is gone I know not whither.
Yer liueth trueth, and hath her secret loue,
And loue in trueth deserues to be regarded,
And loues regard in reason doth appeare,
Approued trueth can neuet be discharged:
Then try me first▪ and if that true you proue me,
In trueth you wrong me if you doe not loue me.
Finis,
A Poeme vpon the word sweet.
SWeet is the life▪ that is the sweet of loue,
•
weet is the loue, that is the sweet of life,
Sower the conceit that doth vnkindenes mooue,
But kinde the sweete that endeth such a strife▪
Then for the sweet of sweetest louers vaine,
Sweet if thou louest me, sweetlie come againe.
Oh sweet and sweet, where nothing is but sweet,
Sweet be thy motions, and sweeter be thy minde,
Which shew
••
〈◊〉
sweet where sweet affections meet
In sweet content that cannot prooue vnkinde:
Then sweetest hart that to this humor moouest me,
Sweete come againe, that I may see thou louest me.
Sweet I began, and so with sweet I end,
There is no sweet vnto the sweet of loue,
Nor loue so sweet as in so sweet a friend,
Which shewes the sweet no sowernesse can remooue,
Let tha
•
sweet thought vnto this sweetnesse mooue thee,
Sweet come againe, for by my sweet I loue thee.
Finis.
A Louer finding
•
is loue vnconstant, maketh his lact farewell.
NO faith on earth, sweet fancie then adu
•
,
No fancie firme, why then there is no friend,
No friend but fained, what vice will then ensue,
Since trust doth prooue b
•
t treason in the end,
Farewell false loue, thy tryall is not iust,
No faith on earth, there is no friend to trust.
Fancie farewell, which I haue loued so,
And farewell loue that makes me loath my life▪
And life adue which bred me all my woe,
And farewel woe, the forger of all strife,
And spite adue, which breedeth all contempt,
Contempt adue, whose mischiefe I repent.
And thus I end, repenting still my life,
Crauing for death to make a speedie end,
To rid me soone from all this cursed strife
And ease my heart which sorrow still doth rend:
With some contempt to shoulder off my paine,
Whose faith still stands in spite of all disdaine.
Finis.
A Poeme.
LOue makes me loath my life,
Yet doe I liue by loue.
This life brings death, and death brings life.
Both these and that I prooue:
I sigh and sing for ioy,
I laugh in paine to lie,
Thus moane workes mirth, and mirth weaues woe▪
Twixt both I liue and die.
My colour shewes my care,
My care doth worke my paine.
My paine my griefe, my griefe my death,
My death mine endles gaine,
In vaine is beauties blaze.
If beautie want her meede.
The blossome fruit, the fruit his flower▪
The flower wil haue his seed.
My youth doth shew my yeares,
My yeares should shew my ioy▪
I haste to wed, I haue no will,
I stoope, yet am I coy,
Though outward face doth shew
Mine inward heart not payn'd,
Yet doth mine inward hart well know,
Mine outward face is fayn'd.
I fast, I pray, I play,
What diet can I prooue?
But ah I see the ripest wittes▪
Are soonest thrall to loue.
Sith so it is, I sigh,
And to my selfe I sing,
Heygho, my hart▪ heigho▪ alas▪
Loue is a cruell thing.
Finis.
The moane of a Louer in despaire.
GOe paper all be blurd▪ be blurd,
with bootles teares in vaine▪
Goe tell, goe tell the heauie newes.
Of my consuming paine:
Goe tell goe tell vnto my friends,
But if they a
•
ke thee why,
Let this suffice, it is enough,
I am re
•
ol
••
d to die.
My head can take
•
o q
•
iet rest,
Mine eyes recei
•
e no sig
•
ht▪
My mouth no taste, my nose no s
•
ell,
Mine eares heare no delight,
My silly panting heart doth faynt:
but if they aske thee why
Let t
•
is suffice, it is enough,
I am resolu'd to die▪
My feeble han
•
s with-hold their helpe,
m
•
feete doe let me fall,
My t
••
gue ca
•
harbor no delight▪
to comfort me at all,
My wit and sences all do faile,
but if they aske thee why▪
Let this suffice it is enough,
I am resolu'd to die.
I haue bespoke the Clarck in haste,
to toll my passing knill,
I haue in order as I ought,
my selfe set downe my will:
I cannot long time heere remaine:
but if they aske thee why,
Let this suffice it is enough,
I am re
•
olu'd to die,
I haue prepar'd my shrowding sheet,
my graue I haue begun,
I haue almost perform'd the race
my wearie corps must runne▪
I tarrie but a little while,
but if they aske thee why,
Let this suffice it is enough,
I am resolu'd to die.
Finis.
A Poeme.
A Liuelie face and piercing beaut
•
y bright▪
Aath linckt in loue my s
••
e sences all,
A comely port, a goodlie sh
•
ped wight,
Hath made me slide that neuer thought to fal
•
▪
Her eyes, her grace, her deedes and manners mild
So straines my heart that loue hath me beguil'd.
But not one dart of Cupid did me wound,
A hundred shafts light all on me at once,
As though dame kinde a new deuise had sound
To teare my flesh and crash a two my bones,
And yet I feele such ioyes in these my woes,
That as I die my spirite to pleasure goes.
These my fond fits such change in me doth breede.
I ha
•
e the day, and driue to darknes, loe,
Yet by the lampe of beautie I doe feede,
In dimmest dayes, and darkest nights also:
Thus altring state and changing diet still,
I feele and know the force of Venus will.
The best I finde is that I doe tonfesse,
I loue a dame whose beautie doth excell,
But yet a toy doth breede me my distresse,
For that I dread she will not loue me well:
Thus all my sweet still turne to bitter bale▪
Ready to kill me ere I end my tale.
Oh Goddesse mine▪ yet heare the voyce of ruth,
And pittie him that heart presents to thee.
And if thou wilt but witnes for my trueth,
Let sighs and grones my iudge and record bee,
Vnto
•
he end a day may come in haste,
To make me thinke I spend no time in waste▪
For naught preuailes in loue to serue and
•
ue,
If full effect ioyne not with words at neede
What is desire or any fancies now,
More then that which is spread abroad indeed:
My words and deedes
〈…〉
in one agree,
To pleasure her whose sir
••
a
•
e would I bee▪
Finis.
Of his Mistresse loue.
TTo trie whose art and sttength did most excell
My Mistresse, L
•
ue and faire Diana met,
The Ladier three foorthwith to shooting fell,
And for the prize the richest Iewel set.
Sweet Loue did both her bowe and arrowes gage,
Diana did her beautie rare lay downe,
My Mistresse pawnde her crueltie and rage,
And she that wanne had all for her renowne:
It fell out thus when as the match was done.
My Mistresse gat the beautie and the bowe,
And streight to trie the weapons she had wonne▪
Vpon me heart she did a shaft bestow.
By beautie bound, by Loue and Vigor slaine,
The losse is mine where hers was all the gaine.
Of a discontented minde.
POets come all, and teach one take a penne,
Let all the heads that euer did indite,
Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest denne,
And helpe an heart an heauie tale to write.
And if all these or any one can touch,
The smallest part of my tormenting paine:
Then will I thinke my griefe is not so much,
But that in time it may be healde againe.
But if no one come neere the thought,
Of that I
•
eele▪ and no man els can finde,
Then let him say that deare his cunning bought,
There is no death to discontented minde.
Of his Mistresse Beautie.
WHat ailes mine eies, or are my wits distaught,
Doe I not see, or know not what I see,
No marueil though to see that wonder wrought,
Tha
•
on the earth another cannot bee.
What ment the Gods when first they did creat you,
To make a face to mocke all other features,
Angels in heauen will surelie deadlie hate you,
To leaue the world so full offoolish creatures.
Che
•
kes that enchaine the highest hearts in thrall,
Is it set downe such faire shall neuer fade you.
Hands, that the hearts of highest thoughts appall,
Was not Minerua made when she had made you,
Faire: looke on you, and farewell beauties grace,
Wise: why your wits the wisest doth abash.
Sweet: where is sweet but in your sweetest face,
Rich: to your will all treasure is but trash.
Oh how these hands, are catching at those eyes,
To feed this heart that onely liues vpon them,
Ah, of these hands what humors doe arise,
To blind these eyes that liue by looking on them.
But heart must faint th
•
t must be going from you,
And eyes must weepe that in you loose their seeing,
Heauens be your place, where Angels better know you▪
And earth is too base for such a Goddesse beeing.
Yet where you come a
•
ong those highest powers,
Craue pardon then for all these great offences,
That when you dwelt among these hearts of ours,
Your onelie eyes did blind our wits and sences.
Now if you s
•
e my will abo
•
e my wit,
Thinke of the good that all your graces yeeld you:
A mazed Muse must haue a madding fi
•
,
Who is but mad that euer hath beheld you.
A Sonnet.
THose eyes that hold the hand of euerie heart,
That hand that ho
•
ds the heart of euerie eye,
That wit that goes beyond all Natures art▪
The sence too deepe for wisdome to discrie.
That eye, that hand, that wit, that heauenlie sence,
Doth shew my onely Mistresse excellence.
Oh eyes that pearce into the purest heart,
Oh hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall,
Oh wit that weyes the depth of all desar
•
,
Oh sence that shewe the secret sweet of all.
The heauen of heauens with heauenlie power preserue thee.
Loue but thy selfe, and giue me leaue to serue thee.
To serue, to liue, to looke vpon those eyes,
To looke, to liue, to kisse that heauenly hand▪
To sound that vvit that doth amaze the minde,
To knovv that sence, no sence can vnderstand.
To vnderstand that all the vvorld may knovv,
Such vvit, such sence, eyes, hands, there are no moe.
A Pastorell of Phillis and Coridon.
ON a hill there grovves a flovver,
Faire befall the daintie
•
vveet:
By that flovver there is a bovver,
Where the heauenly Muses meete.
In that bovver there is a Chaire,
Fringed all about vvith golde:
Where doth sit the fairest faire,
That did euer eye beholde.
It is Phillis faire and bright,
She that is the shepheatds ioy:
She that venus did dispight,
And did blind her little boy.
This is she the wise, the rich,
And the world desires to see,
This is Ipsa quae the which,
There is none but onely shee.
Who would not this face admire,
Who would not this Saint adore,
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more:
Oh faire eyes yet let me see,
One good looke, and I am gone,
Looke on me for I am hee,
Thy poore sillie Corridon.
Thou that art the shepheards Queene,
Looke vpon thy silly swaine:
By thy comfort haue beene seene,
Dead men brought to life againe.
The complaint of a
•
orsaken Louer.
Let me goe seeke some solitarie place,
In craggie rocks where comfort is vnknowne:
Where I may sit and waile my heauie case,
And make the heauens acquainted with my mone,
Where onelie Eccho with her hallow voyce,
May
•
ound the sorrow of my hidden sence:
And cruel chance the crosse of sweetest choyse,
Doth breed the paine of this experience.
In mourning thoughts let me my minde attire,
And clad my care in weedes ofdeadlie woe:
And make disgrace the graue of my desire,
Which tooke his death wh ereby his life did growe,
And ere I die engraue vpon my tombe,
Take heede of Loue, for this is Lo
•
ers doome.
A pretie fancie.
WHo takes a friend and trusts him not,
Who hopes of good and hath it not,
Who hath a Item and keepes it not,
Who keepes a Ioy and loues it not.
The first wants wit the second will,
Carelesse the third, the fourth doth ill.
An Epitaph on the death of a noble Gentleman.
SOrrow come si
•
thee downe, and sigh and sob thy fill,
And let these bleeding bitter teare
•
, be witnesse of thine ill.
See, see, how Vertue si
•
s, what passions she doth prooue.
To thinke vpon the losse o
•
him, that was her dearest loue.
Come Pall
••
carefull Q
•
eene, let all thy Muses waite,
About the graue, where buried is, the grace of your conceit▪
Poets lay downe your pennes, or if you needs will write,
Confesse the onely day of loue hath lost her dawning light▪
And you that know the Court, ank what beseemes the place,
With griefe engraue vpō his tombe, he gaue al Courts a grace▪
And you that keepe the fields, and know what valure is,
Say all too soone was seene in this vntimelie death of his.
Oh that he liu'd in earth, that could but halfe conceiue,
The honour that his rarest heart was worthie
•
o receiue,
Whose wisdome farre aboue the rule of Natures teach,
Whose workes are extant to the world, that al the world may teach
Whose wit the wonder-stone, that did true wisdome tuch,
And such a sounder of conceipt, as few or neuer such.
Whose vertue did exceed in Natures highest vaine.
Whose life a
•
anthorne of the loue that surelie liues againe.
Whose friendship faith so fast, as nothing could remooue him,
Whose honourable curtesie made all the world to loue him
What Language but he spake▪ what rule but he had read?
What thought so high? what sence so deep but he had in his head.
A Phoenix of rhe world, whom fame doth thus commend,
Vertue is life, Val
•
r his loue, and Honour was his end.
Vpon whose to
•
be be writ▪ that may with teares be red:
Heere lies the flower of chiualrie that euer England bred.
Oh heauens, vpon the earth was neuer such a day,
That all concei
•
s of all contents should al consume away.
Me thinkes I see a Queene come couered with a vaile.
The Court al stricken in a dumpe, the Ladies weepe & waile.
The Knights in careful sighes bewaile their secret losse,
And he that best cōceales his griefe, bewraies he hath a crosse
Come Scholers bring your bookes, let reason haue his right,
Doe reuerence vnto the c
•
rse, in h
•
nour of the Knight.
Come souldi
•
rs see the Knight, that le
•
t his life so n
•
ere ye
Giue him a volley o
•
your harts, that al the
〈◊〉
m
•
y
••
are ye,
And ye that liue at
•
ome, and passe your time in p
••
c
•
,
To helpe ye sing his
•
ole
•
ull dirge, let sorrow neuer c
•
ase.
Oh could I mourne enough, that a
•
l the world may see,
The griefe of loue for such a l
•
sse, as greater c
•
nnot bee.
Our Court hath lost a f
••
end, ou
•
Countrie such a Knight,
As with the to
•
m
••
t o
•
the thought, hath turned day to night,
A man, so rare a man, did neuer England breed,
•
o excellent in euerie thing, that all men did exceed.
So full of all effects, that wit and sence may s
•
an
As in his heart did want no part to make a perfect man.
Perfection farre aboue the rule of hum
•
ine sence▪
Whose heart was onely set on heauen, and had his honor thence
Whose ma
•
ke of hiest aime, was honor of the minde,
Who both
•
t once did worldlie
•
ame, and heauenlie fauour find
Whom vertue so did loue, and learning so adore,
As commendations of a man, was neuer man had more,
Whom wise men did admire, whom good men did affect.
Whom honest men did loue and serue, and all men did re
•
pect.
VVhose care his Countri
•
s loue, whose loue his Countries care,
Whose careful loue considered wel, his Countrie could not spare
Oh Christ what ruth
•
ull cries about the world doe ring,
And to behold the hea
•
ie sighs it is a hellish thing.
The campe, the dolefull campe▪ comes home with all a Mort,
To see the Captaine of th
•
ir
•
are, come home in such a sort▪
The Court, the solemn
•
C
•
u
•
t, is in a sudden trance,
And what is
•
e but is amazde to heare of this mischance,
T
•
e Cittie shak
•
s
〈◊〉
head, as it had lost a piller,
And kind affect is in such care, a little more would kill her,
〈◊〉
Oxford sits and we
•
pes, and Cambridge cries outright.
To loose the honour o
•
their loue, and loue of their delight.
The Cleargie singing Psalmes, with teares beblot
•
heir booke,
And all the schollers follow on, with sad and heauie lookes.
The Muses and the Nimphes attired all in blacke,
With tea
•
ing
•
eares & wringing hands, as if their hearts would cracke.
The father, wife and friends, and seruants in degrees,
〈◊〉
blubbred eyes bewaile the life that faithfull loue did leese.
My selfe that lou'd him more, then he that knew him much,
VVil leaue the honour ofhis worth, for better wits to tutch:
And said but what I thi
•
ke, and that a number know,
He was a Phoenix of a man▪ I feare there are no moe.
To set him downe in praise with men of passed fame,
Let this suffice who more deseru'd: I neuer read his name.
For this he was in right, in briefe to shew his praise,
For Vertue, Learning, Valor, VVit, the honour of our dayes▪
And so with honor ende, let all the world goe seeke,
So young a man so rare a man, the world hath not the like.
VVhose onelie corps consumes, whose Vertue neuer dies,
VVhose sweetest soule enioyes the sweet ofhighest Paradice.
The sum of the former in foure lines.
GRace, Vertue, Valor, VVit, Experience, Learning, Loue,
Art, Reason, Time, Conceite, Deuise, Discretion, Trueth▪
All these in one, and but one onely prooue,
Sorrow in age, to see the end of youth,
In the praise of his Mistresse.
POets lay downe your pennes, let fancie leaue to faine,
Bid al the Muses goe to bed, or get a better vaine.
There musicks are to base, to sound that sweet consaite,
That on the wonder of the world, with wonder may awaite.
But if as yet v
•
knowne, there be some daintie Muse,
That can doe more then al the rest, and will her cunning vse▪
Let her come whet her wits, to see what she can doe,
To that the best that euer wrote, came neuer neere vntoo,
For Venus vvas a toy▪ and onely feigned fable,
And Cresed but a Chawcers
•
east▪ and Helen but a bable.
My tale shalbe of trueth, that neuer treason taught,
My Mistresse is the onelie svveet, that euer Nature vvrought.
Whose eyes are like those starres that keepe the highest skies,
Whose beautie like the burning Sunne▪ that blinds the clearest eies,
Whose haires are like those beames, that hang about the Sunne,
When in the morning forth he steps, before his course be runne
And let me touch those lips, by loue, by leaue, or lucke,
When sweet affect, by sweet aspect may yet some fauour sucke▪
They are those little foldes, of Natures finest wit,
That she sat smoothing while she wrought▪ & wilbe smacking yet.
And for that purest red, with that most perfect white,
That makes those cheeks the sweetest chains, of louers high delite.
What may be sayd but this, Behold the onely feature,
That al the world that sees the face, may wōder at the creature
I wil not stand to muse as many writers doe.
•
o seeke our Natures finest stuffe to like her lims vntoo.
Foe if thou wert on earth that could in part compare:
With euerie part of euerie part, wherin her praises are:
Either for Natures gifts or Vertues sweetest grace:
I would confesse a blinded heart, were in vnhappie case.
But what doth Nature▪ Sence, and Reason doth approue,
She is the onely saint on earth, whom God and man doth lou
•
▪
Let this in summe suffice for my poore Muse and mee,
She is the Goddesse of the earth, and there is none but shee.
FINIS.