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THOMAS WATSON,

Born 1560, died about 1591.

This sonnet is perfectly patheticall, and consisteth in two principall points: wherof the first conteyneth an accusation of Love for his hurtfull effects and usuall tyrannie; the second part is a sudden recantation or excuse of the author's evil words, by casting the same upon the necke of his beloved, as being the onely cause of his late frenzy and blasphemous rage so lavishly powred forth in fowle speaches.

LOVE is a sowr delight; a sugred greefe ;
A livinge death; an ever-dying life;

A breache of reason's lawe; a secret theefe ;
A sea of teares; an everlasting strife;
A bayte for fooles; a scourge of noble witts;
A deadly wound; a shot which ever hitts.
Love is a blinded god; an angrye boye;
A labyrinth of dowbts; an ydle lust;
A slave to Beautie's will; a witless toy;
A ravening bird; a tyrant most unjust;
A burning heate; a cold; a flattringe foe;
A private hell; a very world of woe.
Yet, mightie Love, regard not what I saye,
Which lye in traunce bereft of all my witts,
But blame the light that leads me thus astraye,
And makes my tongue blaspheme by frantike fitts :
Yet hurt her not, lest I susteyne the smart,
Which am content to lodge her in my heart.

LOVE UNREQUITED.

WHEN Maye is in his prime, and youthfull Spring
Doth cloath the tree with leaves, the ground with flowers,
And time of year reviveth ev'ry thing,

And lovely Nature smiles, and nothing lowers;

Then Philomela most doth straine her brest
With night-complaints, and sits in little rest.

This bird's estate I may compare with mine,

To whom fond Love doth worke such wrongs by day, That in the night my heart must needs repine,

And storme with sighs to ease me as I may; Whilst others are becalmed, or lye them still, Or sayle secure with wind and tide at will.

And as all those that heare this bird complaine,
Conceive in all her tunes a sweet delight,

Without remorse or pitying her paine;

So she for whom I waile both daye and night, Doth sport her selfe in hearing my complaint: A just reward for serving such a saint.

E

FROM

"A HANDEFULL OF PLEASANT DELITES;

BY

CLEMENT ROBINSON AND DIVERS OTHERS,"

1584.

A NOSEGAIE ALWAIES SWEET, FOR LOVERS TO SEND FOR TOKENS OF LOVE, AT NEW-YERES TIDE, OR FOR FAIRINGS, AS THEY

IN THIR MINDS SHALL BE DISPOSED TO WRITE.

A NOSEGAIE lacking flowers fresh,

To you now I do send,
Desiring you to look thereon,

When that you may intend:

For flowers fresh begin to fade,

And Boreas in the field,

Even with his hard congealed frost,

No better flowers doth yield.

But if that winter could have sprung

A sweeter flower than this,

I would have sent it presently

To you withouten misse.

Accept this, then, as time doth serve;

Be thankful for the same;

Despise it not, but keep it well,

And marke with flowers his name.

Lavander is for lovers true,

Which evermore be faine;

Desiring alwaies for to have

Some pleasure for their paine :

And when that they obtained have
The love that they require,
Then have they all their perfect joie,
And quenched is the fire.

Rosemarie is for remembrance
Between us day and night,
Wishing that I might alwaies have
You present in my sight;
And when I cannot have,

(As I have said before,)

Then Cupid, with his deadly dart,
Doth wound my heart full sore.

Sage is for sustenance,

That should man's life sustaine ;

For I do still lie languishing

Continually in paine;

And shall do still, untill I die,

Except thou favour show :

My paine, and all my grievous smart,

Full well you do it know.

Fennel is for flatterers,

An evil thing 'tis sure:

But I have alwaies meant truly,

With constant heart most pure;

And will continue in the same,

As long as life doth last; Still hoping for a joyful day When all our paines be past.

Violet is for faithfulnesse,

Which in me shall abide ;

Hoping, likewise, that from your heart You will not let it slide:

And will continue in the same,

As you have now begunne;

And there for ever to abide,

When you my heart have wonne.

Time is to try me,

As each be tried must;

Trusting, you know, while life doth last,

I will not be unjust;

And if I should, I would to God

To hell my soule should beare,

And eke, also, that Belzebub

With teeth he should me teare.

Roses is to rule me,

With reason, as you will,

For to be still obedient

Your mind for to fulfill;

And thereto will not disagree

In nothing that you say ;
But will content your mind truly
In all things that I may.

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