[Page] Cynthia. VVITH CERtaine Sonnets, and the Legend of Cassandra.
Quod cupio nequeo.
At London, Printed for Humfrey Lownes, and are to bee sold at the VVest doore of Paules. 1595.
[Page] To the Right Honorable, and most noble-minded Lorde, VVilliam Stanley, Earle of Darby, &c.
RIGHT Honorable, the dutifull affection I beare to your manie vertues, is cause, that to manifest my loue to your Lordship, I am constrained to shew my simplenes to the world. Many are they that admire your worth, of the which number, I (though the meanest in abilitie▪ yet with the formost in affection) am one that most desire to serue, and onely to serue your Honour.
Small is the gift, but great is my good-will; the which, by how much the lesse I am able to expresse it, by so much the more it is infinite. Liue long▪ and inherit your Predecessors vertues, [Page] as you doe their dignitie and estate. This is my wish: the which your honorable excellent giftes doe promise me to obtaine: and whereof these few rude and vnpollished lines, are a true (though an vndeseruing) testimony. If my ability were better, the signes should be greater; but being as it is, your honour must take me as I am, not as I should be. My yeares being so young, my perfection cannot be great: But howsoeuer it is, yours it is; and I my selfe am yours; in all humble seruice, most ready to be commaunded.
Richard Barnefeilde.
To the curteous Gentlemen Readers.
GEntlemen; the last Terme there came forth a little toy of mine, intituled, The affectionate Shepheard: In the which, his Country Content found such friendly fauor, that it hath incouraged me to publish my second fruites. The affectionate Shepheard being the first: howsoeuer vndeseruedly (I protest) I haue beene thought (of some) to haue beene the authour of two Books heretofore. I neede not to name them, because they are too-well knowne already: nor will I deny them, because they are dislik't; but because they are not mine. This protestation (I hope) will satisfie th'indifferent: and as for them that are maliciously enuious, as I cannot, so I care not to please. Some there were, that did interpret The affectionate Shepheard, otherwise then (in truth) I meant, touching the subiect therof▪ to wit, the loue of a Shepheard to a boy; a fault, the which I will not excuse, because I neuer made. Onely this, I will vnshaddow my conceit: being nothing else, but an imitation of Virgill, in the second Eglogue of Alexis. In one or two places (in this Booke) I vse [Page] the name of Eliza pastorally: wherein, lest any one should misconster my meaning (as I hope none will) I haue here briefly discouered my harmeles conceipt as concerning that name▪ whereof once (in a simple Shepheards deuice) I wrot this Epigramme.
One name there is, which name aboue all other
I most esteeme, as time and place shall proue:
The one is Vesta, th other Cupids Mother,
The first my Goddesse is, the last my loue;
Subiect to Both I am: to that by berth;
To this for beautie; fairest on the earth.
Thus, hoping you will beare with my rude conceit of Cynthia, (if for no other cause, yet, for that it is the first imitation of the verse of that excellent Poet, Maister Spencer, in his Fayrie Queene) I leaue you to the reading of that, which I so much desire may breed your Delight.
Richard Barnefeild.
T. T. in commend ation ofthe Authour his worke.
VVHylom that in a shepheards gray coate masked,
(Where masked loue the nonage of his skill)
Reares now his Eagle-winged pen, new tasked,
To seale the by-Clift Muse sole-pleasing hill:
Dropping sweete Nectar poesie from his quill,
Admires faire CYNTHIA with his iuory pen
Faire CYNTHIA lou'd, fear'd, of Gods and men.
Downe sliding from that cloudes ore-pearing mounteine:
Decking with double grace the neighbour plaines,
Drawes christall dew, from PEGASE foote-sprung fountain,
Whose flower set banks, delights, sweet choice containes:
Nere yet discouerd to the country swaines:
Heere bud those branches, which adorne his turtle,
With loue made garlands, of heart-bleeding Mirtle.
Rays'd from the cynders, of the thrice-fact towne▪
ILLIONS sooth-telling SYBILLIST appeares,
Eclipsing PHOEBVS loue, with fcornefull frowne,
Whose tragicke end, affords warme-water teares,
(For pitty-wanting PACOE, none for beares,
Such period haps, to beauties price ore-priz'd:
Where IANVS-faced loue, doth larke disguiz'd.
Nere waining CYNTHIA yeelds thee triple thankes,
Whose beames vnborrowed darke the worlds faire eie,
And as full streames that euer fill their bankes,
So those rare Sonnets, where wits ripe doth lie,
With Troian Nimph, doe soare thy fame to skie.
And those, and these, contend thy Muse to raise
(Larke mounting Muse) with more then common praise.
To his Mistresse.
BRight Starre of Beauty, fairest Faire aliue,
Rare president of peerelesse chastiry;
(In whom the Muses and the Graces striue,
VVhich shall possesse the chiefest part of thee:)
Oh let these simple lines accepted bee:
VVhich here I offer at thy sacred shrine:
Sacred, because sweete Beauty is diuine.
And though I cannot please each curious care,
With sugred Noates of heauenly Harmonie:
Yet if my loue shall to thy selfe appeare,
No other Muse I will inuoke but thee:
And if thou wilt my faire Thalia be,
He sing sweet Hymnes and praises to thy name,
In that cleāre Temple of eternall Fame.
But ah (alas) how can mine infant Muse
(That neuer heard of Helicon before)
Performe my promise past: when they refuse
Poore Shepheards Plaints? yet will I still adore
Thy sacred Name, although I write no more:
Yet hope I shall, if this accepted bee:
If not, in silence sleepe eternally.
CYNTHIA.
NOW was the Welkyn all inuelloped
With duskie Mantle of the sable Night:
And CYNTHIA lifting vp her drouping head,
Blusht at the Beautie of her borrowed light,
When Sleepe now summon'd euery mortal wight.
Then the (me thought) I saw or seem'd to see,
An heauenly Creature like an Angell bright,
That in great haste come pacing towards me:
Was neuer mortall eye beheld so faire a Shee.
Thou lazie man (quoth she) what mak'st thou heere
(Luld in the lap of Honours Enimie?)
I heere commaund thee now for to appeare
(By vertue of loves mickle Maiestle)
In yonder Wood▪ (VVhich with her finger shee
Out-poysiting) had no sooner turn'd her face,
And leauing mee to muze what she should bee,
Yuanished into some other place:
But straite (me thought) I saw a rout of heauenlie (Race.
Downe in a Dale, hard by a Forrest side,
(Vnder the shaddow of a loftie Pine,)
Not far from whence a trickling streame did glide,
Did nature by her secret art combine,
A pleasant Arbour, of a spreading Vine:
Wherein Art stroue with nature to compaire,
That made it rather seeme a thing diuine,
Being scituate all in the open Aire:
A fairer nere was seene, if any seene so faire.
There might one see, and yet not see (indeede)
Fresh Flora flourishing in chiefest Prime,
Arrayed all in gay and gorgeous weede,
The Primrose and sweet-smelling Eglantine,
As fitted best beguiling so the time:
And euer as she went she strewd the place,
Red-roses mixt with Daffadillies fine,
For Gods and Goddesses, that in like case
In this same order sat, with il-beseeming grace.
First, in a royall Chaire of massie gold,
(Bard all about with plates of burning steele)
Sat Iupiter most glorious to behold,
And in his hand was placed Fortunes wheele:
The which he often turn'd, and oft did reele.
And next to him, in griefe and gealouzie,
(If fight may censure what the heart doth feele)
In sad lament was placed Mercurie;
That dying seem'd to weep, & weeping seem'd to die.
On th' other side, aboue the other twaine,
(Delighting as it seem'd to sit alone)
Sat Mulciber; in pride and high disdaine,
Mounted on high vpon a stately throne,
And euen with that I heard a deadly grone:
Muzing at this, & such an vncouth sight, (mone)
(Not knowing what shoulde make that piteous
I saw three furies, all in Armour dight,
With euery one a Lampe, and euery one a light.
I deemed so; nor was I much deceau'd,
For poured forth in sensuall Delight,
There might I see of Sences quite bereau'd
King Priams Sonne, that Alexander hight,
(Wrapt in the Mantle of eternall Night.)
And vnder him, awaiting for his fall,
Sate Shame, here Death, & there sat fel Despight,
That with their Horrour did his heart appall:
Thus was his Blisse to Bale, his Hony turn'd to gall.
In which delight feeding mine hungry eye,
Of two great Goddesses a sight I had,
And after them in wondrous Iollity,
(As one that inly ioy'd, so was she glad)
The Queene of Loue full royallie yclad,
In glistring Golde, and peerelesse precious stone,
There might I spie: and her Companion bad,
Proud Paris, Nephew to Laomedon,
That afterward did cause the Death of many a one.
By this the formost melting all in teares,
And rayning downe resolued Pearls in showers,
Gan to approach the place of heauenly Pheares,
And with her weeping, watring all their Bowers,
Throwing sweet Odors on those fading flowers,
At length, she them bespake thus mournfullie.
High Ioue (quoth she) and yee Coelestiall powers,
That here in Iudgement sit twixt her and mee,
Now listen (for a while) and iudge with equitie.
Sporting our selues to day, as wee were woont,
(I meane, I, Pallas, and the Queene of Loue,)
Intending with Diana for to hunt,
On Ida Mountaine top our skill to proue,
A golden Ball was trindled from aboue,
And on the Rinde was writ this Poesie,
PVLCHERIMae for which a while we stroue,
Each saying shee was fairest of the three,
VVhen loe a shepheards Swaine not far away we see.
I spi'd him first, and spying thus bespake,
Shall yonder Swaine vnfolde the mysterie?
Agree'd (quoth Venus,) and by Stygian Lake,
To whom he giues the ball so shall it bee:
Nor from his censure will I flie, quoth shee,
(Poynting to Pallas (though I loose the gole.
Thus euery one yplac'd in her degree,
The Shepheard comes, whose partial eies gan role,
And on our beuties look't, and of our beuties stole.
I promis'd wealth, Minerua promis'd wit,
(Shee promis'd wit to him that was vnwise,)
But he (fond foole) had soone refused it,
And minding to bestow that glorious Prize,
On Venus, that with pleasure might suffize
His greedie minde in loose laciuiousnes:
Vpon a sudden, wanting good aduice,)
Holde here (quoth he) this golden Ball possesse,
Which Paris giues to thee for meede of worthines,
Thus haue I shew'd the summe of all my sute,
And as a Plaintiffe heere appeale to thee,
And to the rest. Whose folly I impute
To filthie lust, and partialitie,
That made him iudge amisse: and so doe we
(Quoth Pallas, Venus) nor will I gaine-say,
Although it's mine by right, yet willinglie,
I heere disclaime my title and obey:
When silence being made, Ioue thus began to saie.
Thou Venus, art my darling, thou my deare,
(Minerua,) shee, my sister and my wife:
So that of all a due respect I beare,
Assign'd as one to end this doubtfull strife, (life)
(Touching your forme, your fame, your loue, your
Beauty is vaine much like a gloomy light,
And wanting wit is counted but a trife,
Especially when Honour's put to flight:
Thus of a louely, soone becomes a loathly sight.
VVit without wealth is bad, yet counted good,
wealth wanting wisdom's worse, yet deem'd as wel,
From whence (for ay) doth flow, as from a flood,
A pleasant Poyson▪ and a heauenly Hell,
where mortall men doe couer still to dwell.
Yet one there is to Vertue so inclin'd,
That as for Maiesty she beares the Bell,
So in the truth who tries her princelie minde,
Both Wisdom, Beauty, Wealth, & all in her shal find.
In Westerne world amids the Ocean maine,
In coumpleat Vertue shining like the Sunne,
In great Renowne a maiden Queene doth raigne,
Whose roy all Race, in Ruine first begun,
Till Heauens bright Lamps dissolue shall nere bee done:
In whose faire eies Loue linckt with vertues been,
In euerlasting Peace and Vnion.
Which sweet Consort in her full well beseeme
Of Bounty, and of Beauty fairest Fayrie Queene.
And to conclude, the gifts in her yfound,
Are all so noble, royall, and so rare,
That more and more in her they doe abound;
In her most peerelesse Prince without compare,
Endowing still her minde with vertuous care:
That through the world (so wide) the flying fame,
(And Name that Enuies selfe cannot impaire,)
Is blown of this faire Queen, this gorgeous dame,
Fame borowing al mēs mouths to royalize the same.
And with this sentence Iupiter did end,
This is the Pricke (quoth he) this is the praies,
To whom, this as a Present I will send,
That shameth Cynthia in her siluer Raies,
If so you three this deed doe not displease.
Then one, and all, and euery one of them,
To her that is the honour of her daies,
A second Iudith in IERVSALEM.
To her we send this Pearle, this Iewell, and this Iem.
Then call'd he vp the winged Mercury,
(The mighty Messenger of Gods enrold,)
And bad him hither hastily to hie,
Whō tended by her Nymphes he should behold,
Like Pearles ycouched all in shining gold.)
And euen with that, frō pleasant slumbring sleepe▪
(Desiring much these wonders to vnfold)
I wak'ning, when Aurora gan to peepe,
Depriu'd so soone of my sweet Dreame, gan almost weepe.
The Conclusion.
THus, sacred Virgin, Muse of chastitie,
This difference is betwixt the Moone and thee:
Shee shines by Night; but thou by Day do'st shine:
Shee Monthly changeth▪ thou do st nere decline:
And as the Sunne, to her, doth lend his light,
So hee, by thee, is onely made so bright:
Yet neither Sun, nor Moone, thou canst be named,
Because thy light hath both their beauties shamed:
Then, since an heauenly Name doth thee befall,
Thou VIRGO art: (if any Signe at all.
FINIS.
SONNET. I.
Sporting at fancie, setting light by loue,
There came a theefe and stole away my heart,
(And therefore robd me of my chiefest part)
Yet cannot Reason him a felon proue.
For why his beauty (my hearts thiefe) affirmeth,
Piercing no skin (the bodies fensiue wall)
And hauing leaue, and free consent withall,
Himselfe not guilty, whom loue guilty tearmeth,
Conscienee the ludge, twelue Reasons are the Iurie,
They sinde mine eies his beutie t'haue let in,
And on this verdict giuen, agreed they bin,
VVherefore, because his beauty did allure yee,
Your Doome is this: in teares still to be drowned,
VVhen his faire forchead with disdain is frowned.
SONNET. II.
Beuty and Maiesty are falne at ods,
Th'one claimes his checke, the other claimes his chin;
Then Vertue comes, and puts her title in.
(Quoth she) I make him like th'immortall Gods.
(Quoth Maiestie) I owne his lookes, his Brow,
His lips, (quoth Loue) his eies, his faire is mine.
And yet (quoth Maiesty) he is not thine,
I mixe Disdaine with Loues congealed Snow.
I, but (quoth Loue) his lockes are mine (by right)
His stately gate is mine (quoth Maiestie,)
And mine (quoth Vertue) is his Modestie.
Thus as they striue about this heauenly wight,
Atlast the other two to Vertue yeeld,
The lists of Loue, fought in faire Beauties field.
SONNET. III.
The Stoicks thinke, (and they come neere the truth,)
That vertue is the chiefest good of all,
The Academicks on Idea call.
The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth,
The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie,
To be the chiefest good aboue all other,
One man, thinks this: & that conceaues another:
So that in one thing very few agree.
Let Stoicks haue their Vertue if they will,
And all the rest their chiefe▪supposed good,
Let cruell Martialists delight in blood,
And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill:
My chiefest good, my chiefe felicity,
Is to be gazing on my loues faire eie▪
SONNET. IIII.
Two stars there are in one faire firmament,
(Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face)
VVhich other stars in brightnes doe disgrace,
As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent.
Nor are they common natur'd stars▪ for why,
These stars whē other shine vaile their pure light,
And when all other vanish out of sight,
They adde a glory to the worlds great eie,
By these two stars my life is onely led,
In them I place my ioy, in them my pleasure,
Loues piercing Darts, & Natures precious treasure
VVith their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed:
Then when my sunne is absent from my sight
How can it chuse (with me) but be darke night?
SONNET. V.
It is reported of faire Thetis Sonne,
(Achilles famous for his chiualry,
His noble minde and magnanimity,)
That when the Troian wars were new begun,
VVhos'euer was deepe-wounded with his speare,
Could neuer be▪recured of his maime,
Nor euer after be made whole againe:
Except with that speares rust he holpen were.
Euen so it fareth with my fortune now,
VVho being wounded with his piercing eie,
Must either thereby finde a remedy,
Or els to be releeu'd I know not how.
Then if thou hast a minde stil to annoy me,
Kill me with kisses, if thou wilt destroy me.
SONNET. VI.
Sweet Corrall lips, where Natures treasure lies,
The balme of blisse, the soueraigue salue of sorrow
The secret touch of loues heart-burning arrow,
Come quench my thirst or els poore Daphne dies.
One night I dream'd (alas twas but a Dreame)
That I did feele the sweetnes of the same▪
Where-with inspir'd, I young againe became,
And from my heart a spring of blood did streame,
But when I wak'e, I found it nothing so,
Saue that my limbs (me thought) did waxe more strong
And I more lusty far, & far more yong.
This gift on him rich Nature did bestow.
Then if in dreaming so, I so did speede,
What should I doe, if I did so indeede?
SONNET. VII.
Sweet Thames I honour thee, not for thou art
The chiefest Riuer of the fairest Ile,
Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile,
But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart,
For on thy waues, (thy Christal▪billow'd waues,)
My fairest faire, my siluer Swan is swimming:
Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming▪
VVhilst Neptune his faire feete with water laues,
Neptune, I feare not thee, not yet thine eie,
And yet (alas) Apollo lou'd a boy,
And Cyparissus was Siluanus ioy.
No, no, I feare none but faire Thetis, I,
For if she spie my Loue, (alas) aie me,
My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie.
SONNET. VIII.
Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were,
So might I steale a kisse, and yet not seene,
So might I gaze vpon his sleeping eine,
Although I did it with a panting feare:
But when I well consider how vaine my wish is,
Ah foolish Bees (thinke I) that doe not lucke,
His lips for hony; but poore flowers doe plucke
Which haue no sweet in them: when his sole kisses,
Are able to reuiue a dying soule.
Kisse him, but sting him not, for if you doe,
His angry voice your flying will pursue:
But when they heare his tongue, what can controule,
Their back▪returne? for then they plaine may see,
How hony-combs from his lips dropping bee.
SONNET. IX.
Diana (on a time) walking the wood,
To sport herselfe, of her faire traine forlorne,
Chaunc't for to pricke her foote against a thorne,
And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood.
No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight,
But loues faire Queen came there away by chāce,
And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance,
She put the blood into a christall bright.
When being now comne vnto mount Rhodope,
With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow,
And blends it with this blood; from whence doth grow
A louely creature, brighter then the Dey.
And being christned in faire Paphos shrine,
She call'd him Ganymede: as all diuine.
SONNET. X.
Thus was my loue, thus was my Ganymed,
(Heauens ioy, worlds wonder, natures fairest work,
In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke)
Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed,
And for sweete Venus only form'd his face,
And his each member delicately framed,
And last of all faire Ganymede him named,
His limbs (as their Creatrix) her imbrace.
But as for his pure, spotles, vertuous minde,
Because it sprung of chaste Dianaes blood▪
(Goddesse of Maides, directresse of all good,)
Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde.
And thus it is: as far as I can proue,
He loues to be belou'd, but not to loue,
SONNET. XI.
Sighing, and sadly sitting by my Loue,
He ask't the cause of my hearts sorrowing▪
Coniuring me by heauens eternall King
To tell the cause which me so much did moue.
Compell'd: (quoth I) to thee I will confesse,
Loue is the cause; and onely loue it is
That doth depriue me of my heauenly blisse.
Loue is the paine that doth my heart oppresse.
And what is she (quoth he) whō thou do'st loue?
Looke in this glasse (quoth I) there shalt thou see
The perfect for me of my faelicitie.
When, thinking that it would strāge Magique proue,
He open'd it: and taking off the couer,
He straight perceau'd himselfe to be my Louer.
SONNET. XII.
Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy,
And some offaire Adonis make their boast,
Some talke of him whom louely Lada lost,
And some of Ecchoes loue that was so coy.
They speake by heere-say, 1 of perfect truth,
They partially commend the persons named,
And for them, sweete Encomions haue framed:
I onely t'him haue sacrifiz'd my youth.
As for those wonders of antiquitie,
And those whom later ages haue inioy'd,
(But ah what hath not cruell death destroide?
Death, that enuies this worlds felicitie.)
They were (perhaps) lesse faire then Poets write,
But he is fairer then I can indite.
SONNET. XIII.
Speake Eccho, tell; how may I call my loue? Loue.
But how his Lamps that are so christaline? Eyne.
Oh happy starts that make your heauens diuine:
And happy Iems that admiration moue.
How tearm'st his goldē tresses wau'd with aire? Haire.
Oh louely haire of your more-louely Maister,
Image of loue, faire shape of Alablaster,
Why do'st thou driue thy Louer to dispaire?
How do'st thou cal the bed wher beuty grows▪ Rose.
Faire virgine-Rose, whose mayden blossoms couer
The milke-white Lilly, thy imbracing Louer:
Whose kisses makes thee oft thy red to lose.
And blushing oft for shame whē he hath kist thee,
He vades away, & thou raing'st where it list thee.
SONNET. XIIII.
Here; hold this gloue (this milk-white cheueril gloue)▪
Not quaintly ouer-wrought with curious knots,
Nor deckt with golden spangs, nor siluer spots;
Yet wholsome for thy hand as thou shalt proue.
Ah no: (sweet boy) place this gloue neere thy heart,
Weare it, and lodge it still within thy brest,
So shalt thou make me (most vnhappy,) blest▪
So shalt thou rid my paine, and case my smart:
How can that be (perhaps) thou wilt reply,
A gloue is for the hand▪ not for the heart,
Nor can it well be prou'd by common art,
Nor reasons rule. To this, thus answere I:
If thou from gloue do'st take away the g,
Then gloue is loue: and so I send it thee.
SONNET. XV.
A fairest Ganymede, disdaine me not,
Though silly Sheepeheard I, presume to loue thee,
Though my harsh songs & Sonnets cannot moue thee,
Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot.
Apollo, Ioue, and many Gods, beside,
S'daind not the name of cūtry shepheards swains,
Nor want we pleasure, though we take some pains,
We liue contentedly: a thing call'd pride,
Which so corrupts the Court and euery place,
(Each place I meane where learning is neglected,
And yet of late, euen learnings selfe's infected)
I know not what it meanes, in any case:
Wee onely (when Molorchus gins to peepe)
Learne for to folde, and to vnfold our sheepe.
SONNET. XVI.
Long haue I long'd to see my Loue againe,
Still haue I wisht, but neuer could obtaine it;
Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it)
Would I desire my loues sweet precious gaine.
Yet in my soule I see him euerie day,
See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce▪
But (ah) what is of long continuance,
Where Maiestie and Beautie beares the sway?
Sometimes, when I imagine that I see him,
(As loue is full of foolish fantasies)
VVeening to kisse his lips, as my loues fee▪s▪
I feele but Aire: nothing but Aire to bee him.
Thus with Ixion, kisse I cloudes in vaine:
Thus with Ixion, feele I endles paine.
SONNET. XVII.
Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,
Might not compare with his pure Iuorie white,
On whose faire front a Poets pen may write,
Whose rosiate red excels the crimson grape,
His loue-enticing delicate soft limbs,
Are rarely fram'd t'intrap poore gazing eies:
His cheekes, the Lillie and Carnation dies,
With louely tincture which Apolloes dims.
His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet,
His mouth a Hiue, his tongue a hony-combe,
Where Muses (like Bees) make their mansion.
His teeth pure Pearle in blushing Correll set,
Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring,
Be slow to loue, and quicke to hate, enduring▪
SONNET. XVIII.
Not Megabaetes, nor Cleonymus,
(Of whom great Plutarck makes such mention,
Praysing their faire with rare inuention)
As Ganymede were halfe so beauteous.
They onely pleas'd the eies of two great Kings,
But all the worlde at my loue stands amazed▪
Nor one that on his Angels face hath gazed▪
But (rauisht with delight) him Presents brings.
Some weaning Lambs, and some a suckling Kyd,
Some Nuts, and fil-beards, others Peares & Plums,
Another with a milk-white Heyfar comes;
As lately Aegons man (Damaetas) did:
But neither he, nor all the Nymphs beside,
Can win my Ganymede; with them t'abide.
SONNET. XIX.
Ah no; nor I my selfe: though my pure loue
(Sweete Ganymede to thee hath still beene pure,
And euen till my last gaspe shall aie endure,
Could euer thy obdurate beuty moue:
Then cease oh Goddesse sonne (for sure thou art,
A Goddesse sonne that canst resist desire)
Cease thy hard heart, and entertaine loues fire,
Within thy sacred breast: by Natures art.
And as I loue thee more then any Creature,
(Loue thee, because thy beautie is diuine;
Loue thee, because my selfe, my soule is thine;
Wholie deuoted to thy louelie feature)
Euen so of all the vowels, I and V,
Are dearest vnto mee, as doth ensue.
SONNET. XX.
But now my Muse toyld with continuall care,
Begins to faint, and slacke her former pace,
Expecting fauour from that heauenly grace,
That maie (in time) her feeble strength repaire.
Till when (sweete youth) th' essence of my soule,
(Thou that dost sit and sing at my hearts griefe.
Thou that dost send thy shepheard no reliefe)
Beholde, these lines; the sonnes of Peares and Dole.
Ah had great Colin chiefe of sheepheards all,
Or gentle Rowland, my professed friend,
Had they thy beautie, or my pennance pend,
Greater had beene thy fame, and lesse my fall:
But since that euerie one cannot be wittie,
Pardon l craue of them, and of thee, pitty.
FINIS.
AN ODE.
NIghts were short, and daies were long;
Blossoms on the Hauthorn's hung:
Philomaele (Night-Musicues King)
Tolde the comming of the spring.
Whose sweete siluer-sounding voice
Made the little birds reioice:
Skipping light from spray to spray,
Till Aurora shew'd the day.
Scarce might one see, when I might see
(For such chaunces sudden bee)
By a well of Marble-stone,
A Shepheard lying all alone.
Weepe he did; and his weeping
Made the fading flowers spring.
Daphnis was his name (I weene)
Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene.
VVhen Aurora saw t'was he.
Weepe she did for companie▪
[Page] Weepe she did for her sweete sonne,
That (when antique Troy was wonne)
Suffer'd death by lucklesse fate,
Whom she now laments too late:
And each morning (by Cocks crew)
Showers downe her siluer dew.
Whose teares (falling from their spring)
Giue moysture to each liuing thing,
That on earth increase and grow,
Through power of their friendlie foe.
Whose effect when Flora felt,
Teares, that did her bosome melt,
(For who can resist teares often,
But Shee whom no teares can soften?)
Peering straite aboue the banks,
Shew'd herselfe to giue her thanks.
Wondring thus at Natures worke,
(Wherein many maruailes lurke)
[Page] Me thought I heard a dolefull noise,
Consorted with a mournfull voice,
Drawing nie to heare more plaine,
Heare I did, vnto my paine,
(For who is not pain'd to heare
Him in griefe whom heart holdes deare?)
Silly swaine (with griefe ore-gone)
Thus to make his piteous mone.
Loue I did, (alas the while)
Loue I did, but did beguile
My deare loue with louing so,
(VVhom as then I did not know.)
Loue I did the fairest boy,
That these fields did ere enioy.
Loue I did faire Ganymed;
(Venus darling, beauties bed:)
Him I thought the fairest creature;
Him the quintessence of Nature:
[Page] But yet (alas) I was deceiu'd,
(Loue of reason is bereau'd)
For since then I saw a Lasse,
(Lasle) that did in beauty passe,
(Passe) faire Ganymede as farre
As Phoebus doth the smallest starre.
Loue commaunded me to loue;
Fancy bade me not remoue
My affection from the swaine
Whom I neuer could obtaine:
(For who can obtaine that fauour,
Which he cannot graunt the crauer?)
Loue at last (though loath) preuailde;
(Loue) that so my heart assailde;
Wounding me with her faire eies,
(Ah how Loue can subtelize,
And deuize a thousand shifts,
How to worke men to his drifts)
[Page] Her it is, for whom I mourne;
Her, for whom my life I scorne;
Her, for whom I weepe all day;
Her, for whom I sigh, and say,
Either She▪ or els no creature,
Shall enioy my loue: whose ceature
Though I neuer can obtaine,
Yet shall my true loue remaine:
Till (my body turn'd to clay)
My poore soule must passe away,
To the heauens; where (I hope)
Hit shall finde a resting scope:
Then since I loued thee (alone)
Remember me when I am gone.
Scarce had he these last words spoken,
But me thought his heart was broken;
With great griefe that did abound,
(Cares and griefe the heart confound)
[Page] In whose heart (thus riu'd in three)
ELIZA written I might see:
In Caracters of crimson blood,
(VVhose meaning well I vnderstood.)
VVhich, for my heart might not behold,
I hyed me home my sheepe to folde.
FINIS.
CASSANDRA.
VPon a gorgious gold embossed bed,
With Tissue curtaines drawne against the sunne,
(Which gazers eies into amazement led,
So curiously the workmanship was done,)
Lay faire Cassandra▪ in her snowie smocke,
Whose lips the Rubies and the pearles did locke.
And from her Iuory front hung dangling downe,
A bush of long and louely curled haire;
VVhose head impalled with a precious Crowne
Of orient Pearle, made her to seeme more faire:
And yet more faire she hardly could be thought,
Then Loue and Nature in her face had wrought.
By this young Phoetus rising from the East,
Had tane a view of this rare Paragon:
Wherewith he soone his radiant beames addrest,
And with great ioy her (sleeping) gaz'd vpon:
Til at the iast, through her bright caze mēts cleare,
He stole a kisse: and softly call'd her Deare.
Yet not so softly but (thetewith awak't,)
Shee gins to open her faire christ all couers,
Wherewith the wounded God, for terror quakt,
(Viewing those darts that kill disdained louers:)
And blushing red to see himselfe so shamed
He scorns his Coach, & his owne beauty blamed.
Now with a trice he leaues the azures skies,
(As whilome Ioue did at Europaes rape,)
And rauisht with her loue-aluring eies,
He turns himselfe into a humane shape:
And that his wish the sooner might ensue,
He sutes himselfe like one of Venus crew.
Vpon his head he wore a Hunters hat,
Of crimson veluet, spangd with stars of gold,
Which grac'd his louely face: and ouer that▪
A siluer hatband ritchly to behold:
On his left shoulder hung a loose Tyara,
As whilome vs'd faire Penthesilea.
Faire Penthesilea th' Amazonian Queene,
When she to Troy came with her warlike band,
Of braue Viragoes glorious to be seene;
Whose manlike force no power might withstand:
So look't Apollo in his louely weedes,
As he vnto the I▪roian Damzell speedes.
Not faire Adonis in his chiefest pride,
Did seeme more faire, then young Apollo seemed,
When he through th▪aire inuisibly did glide,
T'obraine his Loue, which he Angelike deemed:
Whom finding in her chamber all alone,
He thus begins t'expresse his pitcous mone.
O fairest, faire, aboue all faires (quoth hee,)
If euer Loue obtained Ladies fauour,
Then shew thy selfe compassionate to me,
Whose heart surpriz'd with thy diuine behauiour,
Yeelds my selfe captiue to thy conqu'ring eies:
Oh then shew mercy, doe not tyrannize.
Scarce had Apollo vtter'd these last words,
Rayning downe pearle from his immortall cies,)
VVhen the for answere, naught but feare affords,
Filling the place with lamentable cries:
But Phoe bus fearing much these raging fits,
VVith sugred kisses sweetely charm'd her lips.
And tell's her softly in her softer eare,)
That he a God is, and no mortall creature:
Where with abandoning all needlesse feare,
(A common frailtie of weake womans nature)
She boldly askes him of his deitie,
Gracing her question with her wanton eie.
Which charge to him no sooner was assignde.
But taking faire Cassandra by the hand
(The [...]e be wraier of his secrete minde)
He first begins to let her vnderstand,
That he from Demogorgon was deseended:
Father ofth' Earth, of Gods & men commended.
The tenor of which tale he now recites,
Closing each period with a rauisht kisle:
VVhich kindnes, she vnwillingly requites,
Conioyning oft her Corrall lips to his:
Not that she lou'd the loue of any one;
But that she meant to cozen him anone.
Hee briefly t'her relates his pedegree:
The sonne of loue, sole guider of the sunne,
He that slue Pychon so victoriouslie,
He that the name of wisdomes God hath wonne,
The God of Musique, and of Poetry:
Of Phisicke, Learning, and Chirurgery.
All which he eloquently reckons vp,
That she might know how great a God he was:
And beeing charm'd with Cupids golden cup
He partiallie vnto her praise doth passe,
Calling her tipe of honour, Queene of beauty:
To whom all eies owe tributary duety.
I loued once, (quoth hee) aie me I lou'd,
As faire a shape as euer nature framed:
Had she not been so hard t'haue beene remou'd,
By birth a sea▪Nymph; cruell Daphne named:
Whom, for shee would not to my will agree,
The Gods transform'd into a Laurell tree.
Ah therefore be not, (with that word he kist her)
Be not (quot he) so proud as Daphne was:
Ne care thou for the anger of my sister,
She cannot, nay she shall not hurt my Cass:
For if she doe, I vow (by dreadfull night)
Neuer againe to lend her of my light.
This said: he sweetly doth imbrace his loue▪
Yoaking his armes about her Iuory necke:
And call's her wanton Venus milk-white Doue,
VVhose ruddie lips the damaske roses decke.
And euer as his tongue compiles her praise,
Loue daintie Dimples in her cheekes doth raise.
And meaning now to worke her stratagem
Vpon the silly God, that thinks none ill,
She hugs him in her armes, and kisses him;
Th' easlyer to intice him to her will.)
And being not able to maintaine the feeld,
Thus she begins (or rather seemes) to yeeld.
VVoon with thy words, and rauisht with thy beauty▪
Loe here Cassandra yeelds her selfe to thee,
Requiring nothing for thy vowed duety,
But only firmnesle, Loue, and secrecy:
Which for that now (euen now) I mean to try thee
A boone I craue: which thou canst not deny me.
Scarce were these honywords breath'd from her lips,
But he, supposing that she ment good-faith▪
Her filed tongues temptations interceps;
And (like a Nonice,) thus to her he saith:
Aske what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee;
Health, wealth, long life, wit, art, or dignitie.
Here-with she blushing red, (for shame did adde
A crimson tincture to her pa [...] hew,)
Seeming in outward semblance passing glad,
As one that th' end of her petition knew)
She makes him sweare by vgly Acheron,
That he his promise should performe anon.
VVhich done: relying on his sacred oath,
She askes of him the gift of prophecie:
He (silent) giues consent: though seeming loath
To graunt so much to fraile mortallitie:
But since that he his vowes ma [...]e not recall,
He giues to her the sp'irite propheticall.
But she no sooner had obtain'd her wish,
VVhen straite vnpr [...]s'ning her lasciuious armes
From his softe bosome (th'aluary of blisse)
She chastely counterchecks loues hote allarmes:
And fearing left his presence might offend her,
She slips aside: and (absent) doth defend her.
(Multere ne credas, ne mortuae quidem.)
Looke how a brightsome Planet in the skie,
(Spangling the Welkin with a golden spot)
Shootes suddenly from the beholders eie,
And leaues him looking there where she is not:
Euen so amazed Phoebus (to discrie her)
Lookes all about, but no where can espie her.
Not th'hungry Lyon, hauing lost his pray,
VVith greater furie runneth through the wood,
(Making no signe of momentarie staie,
Till he haue satisfi'd himselfe with blood,)
Then angry Phoe us mounts into the skie:
Threatning the world with his hot-burning eie.
Now nimbly to his glist'ring Coach he skips,
And churlishlie ascend's his loftie chaire,
Yerking his head strong lades with yron whips,
Whose fearefull neighing ecchoes through the aire,
Snorting out fierie Sulphure from their nosethrils:
Whose deadly damp the worlds poore people kils.
Him leaue me (for a while) amids the heauens,
VVreaking his anger on his sturdie steedes:
Whose speedful course the day & night now ceuens,
(The earth dis-robed of her summer weedes)
And nowe black-mantled night with her browne vaile,
Couers each thing that all the world might quaile.
VVhen loe, Cassandra lying at her rest,
(Her rest were restlesse thoughts:) it so befell,
Her minde with multitude of cares opprest,
Requir'd some sleepe her passions to expell:
VVhich when sad Morpheus well did vnderstand,
He clos'd her cie-lids with his leaden hand.
Now sleepeth shee: and as she sleepes, beholde;
Shee seemes to see the God whom late shee wronged
Standing before her; whose fierce lookes vnfold▪
His hidden wrath (to whom instire belonged)
Seeing, shee fighs, and sighing quak't for feare,
To see the shaddow of her shame appeare.
Betwixt amaze and dread as shee thus stands,
The fearefull vision drew more neere vnto her:
And pynioning her armes in captiue bands
So sure, that mortall wight may not vndoe her,
He with a bloudy knife (oh cruell part,)
VVith raging fury stabd her to the heart.
Heerewith awaking from her slumbring sleepe,
(For feare, and care, are enemies to rest:)
At such time as Aurora gins to peepe
And shew her selfe; far orient in the East:
Shee heard a voice which said: O wicked woman
Why dost thou stil the gods to vengeance summon
Thou shale (indeede) fore▪tell of things to come;
And truely too; (for why my vowes are past)
But heare the end of Iowes eternall doome:
Because thy promise did so little last,
Although thou tell the truth, (this gift I giue thee)
Yet for thy falsehood, no man shall belecue thee.
And (for thy sake) this pennance I impose
Vpon the remnant of all woman kinde,
For that they be such truth professed foes;
A constant woman shall be hard to finde:
And that all flesh at my dread name may tremble,
Whē they weep most, thē shal they most dissemble.
This said Apollo then: And since that time
His words haue proued true as Oracles:
Whose turning thoughtes ambitiously doe clime
To heauens height; and world with lightnes fils [...]
VVhose sex are subiect to inconstancie,
As other creatures are to destinie.
Yet famous Sabrine on thy banks dost rest
The fairest Maide that euer world admired:
Whose constant minde, with heauenly giftes possest,
Makes her rare selfe of all the world desired,
In whose chaste thoughts no vanitie doth enter;
So pure a minde Endymions Loue hath lent her.
Queene of my thoughts, but subiect of my verse,
(Diuine Eliza) pardon my defect:
Whose artlesse pen so rudely doth reherse
Thy beauties worth; (for want of due respect)
Oh pardon thou the fullies of my youth;
Pardon my faith, my loue, my zeale, my truth.
But to Cassandra now: who hauing heard
The cruell sentence of the threatning voice;
At length (too late) begins to waxe affeard,
Lamenting much her vnrepentant choice:
And seeing her hard hap without reliefe,
She sheeds salt teares in token of her griefe.
VVhich when Aurora saw, and saw t'was shee,
Euen shee her selfe whose far-renowmed fame
Made all the world to wonder at her beauty,
It mou'd compassion in this ruthfull Dame:
And thinking on her Sonnes sad destnie.
With mournfull teares she beares her companie.
Great was the mone, which faire Cassandra made:
Greater the kindnesse, which Aurora shew'd:
VVhose sorrow with the sunne began to fade;
And her moist teares on th'earths greene grasse bestow'd:
Kissing the flowers with her siluer dew.
VVhose fading beautie, seem'd her case to rew.
Scarce was the louely Easterne Queene departed,
From stately Ilion; (whose proud-reared wals
Seem'd to controule the cloudes, till Vulcan darted
Against their Towers his burning fier-bals)
When sweet Cassandra (leauing her soft bed)
In seemely sort her selfe apparelled.
And hearing that her honourable Sire,
(Old princely Pryamus Troy's aged King)
Was gone into Ioues Temple, to conspire
Against the Greekes, (whom he to war did bring)
Shee (like a Furie (in a bedlam rage,
Runs gadding thither, his fell wrath t'asswage.
But not preuailing: truely she fore-tolde
The fall of Troy, (with bold orected face:)
They count her hare-braind, mad, and ouer-hold,
To presse in presence in so graue a place:
But in meane season Paris he is gone,
To bring destruction on faire Ilion.
What, ten-yeeres siedge by force could not subuert,
That, two false traitors in one night destroi'd:
Who richly guerdon'd for their bad desert,
VVas of Aeneas but small time inio [...]'d:
VVho, for concealement of Achilles loue,
VVas banished; from Ilion to remoue.
King Pryam dead and all the Troians slaine;
(His sonnes, his friends and deare confederates)
And lots now cast for captines that remaine,
(Whom Death hath spared for more cruell fates)
Cassandra then to Agamemnon fell,
With whom a Lemman she disdain'd to dwell.
She, weepes; he, wooes; he, would, but she would not▪
He, tell's his birth; shee, pleades virginitie:
He saith, selfe pride doth rarest beauty blot:
(And with that word he kist her louingly:)
Shee, yeeldingly resists; he fair es to die:
Shee, fall's for feare; he, on her feareleslie.
But this braue generall of all the Greekes,
VVas quickly foyled at a womans hands,
For who so rashly such in counters seekes,
Of hard mis-hap in danger euer stands:
Onely chaste thoughts, and vertuous abstinence,
Gainst such sweet poyson is the sur'st defence.
But who can shun the force of beauties blow?
Who is not rauisht with a louely looke?
Grac'd with a wanton eie, (the hearts dumb shew)
Such fish are taken with a filuer hooke:
And when true loue cannot these pearls obtaine,
Vnguentum Album is the only meane.
Farre be it from my thought (duinest Maid)
To haue relation to thy heauenly hew▪
(In whose sweet voice the Muses are imbaid)
No pen can paint thy commendations due:
Saue only that pen, which no pen can be,
An Angels quill, to make a pen for thee.
But to returne to these vnhappie Louers,
(Sleeping securely in each others armes,)
VVhose sugred ioies nights sable mantle couers,
Little regarding their ensuing harmes:
VVhich afterward they iointhe both repented:
"Fate is fore-seene, but neuer is preuented.
VVhich saying to be true, this lucklesse Dame
Approued in the sequele of her story:
Now waxing pale, now blushing red (for shame)
Shee seales her lips with silence, (womens glory)
Till, Agamemnon vrging her replies,
Thus of his death she truely prophecies.
The day shall come, (quoth she) ô dismall daie!
When thou by false Aegistus shalt be slaine:
Heere could she tell no more; but made a stay.
(From further speech as willing to refraine:)
Not knowing then, nor little did she thinke,
That she with him of that same cup must drinke.
But what? (fond man) he laughes her skil to scorne,
And icsteth at her diuination:
Ah to what vnbeliefe are Princes borne?
(The onely ouer-throw of many a Nation:)
And so it did befall this lucklesse Prince,
Whom all the world hath much lamented since:
Insteede of teares, he smileth at hertale:
Insteede of griese, he makes great shew of gladnes:
But after blisse, there euer followes bale;
And after mirth, there alwaiys commeth sadnes:
But gladnesse, blisse, and mirth had so possest him,
That sadnes, bale, & griefe, could not molest him.
Oh cruell Parcoe (quoth Cassandra then)
Why are you Parce, yet not mou'd with praier?
Oh small security of mortall men,
That liue on earth, and breathe this vitall aire▪
When we laugh most, then are we next to sorrow;
The Birds feede vs to day, we them to morrow.
But if the first did little moue his minde,
Her later speeches lesse with him preuailed;
Who being wholy bent to selfe-will inclinde,
Deemes her weake braine with lunacy assailed:
And still the more shee councels him to stay,
The more he striueth to make haste away.
How on the Seas he seap'd stormes, rocks & sholes,
(Seas that enuide the conquest he had wone,
Gaping like hell to swallow Greekish soules,)
I heere omit; onely suppose it done:
His storm-tyrde Barke safely brings him to shore,
His whole Fleete els, or suncke or lost before.
Lift vp thy head, thou ashie-cyndred Troy,
See the commaunder of thy traitor foes,
That made thy last nights woe, his first daies ioie,
Now gins his night of ioy and daie of wees:
His fall be thy d light, thine was his pride:
As he thee then, so now thou him deride.
He and Cassandra now are set on shore,
VVhich he salutes with ioy, she greetes with teares,
Currors are sent that poast to Court before,
Whose tidings hll [...]h'adultrous Queene with feares,
Who with Aegistus in a lost staind bed,
Her selfe, her King, her state dishonored.
Shee wakes the lecher with a loud-straind shrike,
Loue-toies they leaue, now doth loment begin:
Ile flie (quoth he) our she doth that mislike,
Guilt vnto guilt, and sinne she ad to sinne:
Shee meanes to kill (immodest loue to couer)
A kingly husband, for a caytiue louer.
The peoples ioies, conceiued at his returne,
Their thronging multitudes: their gladsome cries,
Their gleeful hymnes, whiles piles of incense burne:
Their publique shewes, kept at solemnities:
We passe: and tell how King & Queene did meet,
Where he with zeale, she him with guile did greet.
He (noble Lord) fearelesse of hidden treason,
Sweetely salutes this weeping Crocodile:
Excusing euery cause with instant reason
That kept him from her sight so long a while:
Shee, faintly pardons him: smiling by Art:
(For life was in her lookes, death in her hart.)
For pledge that I am pleas'd receiue (quoth shee,)
This rich wrought robe, thy Clytemnestraes toile:
Her ten yeeres worke this day shall honour thee,
For ten yeeres war, and one daies glorious spoile:
Whil'st thou contendedst there, I heere did this:
Weare it my loue, my life, my ioy, my blisse,
Searce had the Syren said, what I haue writ,
But he (kind Prince) by her milde words misled,
Receiu'd the robe, to trie if it were fit;
(The robe) that had no issue for his head:
Which, whil'st he vainly hoped to haue found,
Aegistaes pierst him with a mortal wound.
Oh how the Troyan Damzell was amazed,
To see so fell and bloudy a Tragedie,
Performed in one Act: she naught but gazed,
Vpon the picture; whom she dead did see,
Before her face: whose body she emballms,
With brennish teares, and sudden deadly qualms.
Faine would she haue fled backe on her swift horse,
But Clytemnestra bad her be content,
Her time was com'n: now bootelesse vs'd she force,
Against so many; whom this Tygresse sent
To apprehene her: who (within one hower
Brought backe againe) was lockt within a Tower.
Now is she ioylesse, friendlesse, and (in fine)
VVithout all hope of further libertie:
In steed of cates, cold water was her wine,
And Agamemnons corps her meate must be,
Or els she must for hunger starue (poore sole)
What could she do but make great mone & dole.
So darke the dungeon was, wherein she was,
That neither Sunne (by day) nor Mone (by night)
Did shew themselues: and thus it came to passe.
The Sunne denide to lend his glorious light
To such a periur'd wight, or to be seene;
(What neede shee light, that ouer-light had bin?
Now silent night drew on: when all things sleepe,
Saue theeues, & cares: & now stil mid-night came:
VVhen sad Cassandra did naught els but weepe;
Oft calling on her Agamemnons name.
But seeing that the dead did not replie,
Thus she begins to mourne, lament, and crie.
Oh cruell Fortune, (mother of dispaire,)
Well art thou christen'd with a cruell name:
Since thou regardest not the wise, or faire,
But do'st bestow thy riches (to thy shame)
On fooles & lowly swaines, that care not for thee▪
And yet I weepe, and yet thou do'st abhorre me,
Fie on ambition, fie on filthy pride,
The roote of ill, the cause of all my woe:
On whose fraile yee my youth first slipt aside:
And falling downe▪ receru'd a fatall blow.
Ah who hath liu'd to see such miserie
As I haue done, and yet I cannot die?
I liu'd (quoth she) to see Troy set a fire:
I liu'd to see, renowmed Hector slaine:
I liu'd to see, the shame of my desire:
And yet I liue, to feele more grienous paine:
Let all young maides example take by me,
To keepe their oathes, and spotlesse chastity,
Happy are they, that neuer liu'd to know
What t'is to liue in this world happily:
Happy are they which neuer yet felt woe:
Happy are they, that die in infancie:
Whose sins are cancell'd in their mothers wombe:
Whose cradle is their graue, whose lap their tomb.
Here ended shee: & then her teares began,
That (Chorus-like) at euery word downe rained,
VVhich like a paire of christall fountaines ran,
A long her louely cheekes: with roses stained:
VVhich as they wither still (for want of raine)
Those siluer showers water them againe.
Now had the poore-mans clock (shrili chauntcleare)
Twice giuen notice of the Mornes approach,
(That then began in glorie to appeare,
Drawne in her stately colour'd saffron-Coach)
VVhen shee (poore Lady) almost turn'd to teares,
Began to teare and rend her golden haires.
Lie there (quoth shee) the workers of my woes;
You trifling toies, which my liues staine haue bin▪
You, by whose meanes our coines chiefly growes,
Clothing the backe with pride, the soule with sin:
Lie there (quoth shee) the causers of my care;
This said, her robes shee all in peeces tare.
Here-with, as weary of her wretched life,
(VVhich shee inioy'd with small faelicitie)
Thee ends her fortune with a fatall knife;
(First day of ioy, last day of miserie:)
Then why is death accounted Natures foe,
Since death (indeed) is but the end of woe?
For as by death, her bodie was released
From that strong prison made of lime and stone;
Euen so by death her purest soule was cased,
From bodies prison, and from endlesse mone:
VVhere now shee walkes in sweete Elysium,
(The place for wrongful Death and Martirdum.)
FINIS.