ONCE to debate my cause whilst I drew neere,
My staggering toung against me did conspire,
And whilst it should haue charg'd, it did retire,
A certaine signe of loue that was'sincere:
I saw her heauenly vertues shine so cleere,
That I was forc'd for to conceale my fire,
And with respects euen bridling my desire.
More then my life I held her honour deere,
And though I burn'd with all the flames of loue,
Yet frozen with a reuerent kind of feares,
I durst not poure my passions in her eares;
Lest so I might the hope I had remoue.
Thus loue mar'd loue, desire desire restrain'd;
Of mind to moue a world, I dumbe remain'd.
Ан, what disastrous fortune haue I had!
Lo, still in league with all that may annoy,
And entred in enimitie with joy,
I entertaine all things that make me sad,
With many miseries almost gone mad :
To purchase paines I all my paines employ,
And vse all meanes my selfe for to destroy,
The tenour of my starre hath bene so bad.
And though my state a thousand times were worse,
As it is else past bounds of all beleefe:
Yet all Pandora's plagues could not haue force,
To aggrauate the burthen of my griefe:
Th' occasion might moue mountaines to remorce :
I hate all helpe, and hope for no releefe.
No wonder though that this my blisse dismaies,
Whilst rendred vp to neuer-pleas'd desires,
I burne, and yet must couer cursed fires,
Whose flame it selfe against my will bewrayes.
Some times my faire to launce my wound assayes,
And with th' occasion as it seemes conspires,
And indirectly oft my state inquires,
Which I would hide whilst it it selfe betrayes.
If that a guiltie gesture did disclose
The hideous horrours that my soule contain'd,
Or wandring words deriu'd from inward woes,
Did tell my state, their treason I disdain’d:
And I could wish to be but as I am,
If that she knew how I conceale the same.
ALTHOUGH that words chain'd with affection faile,
As that which makes me burst abasht t' vnfold,
Yet lines (dumbe orators) ye may be bold,
Ye of my state the secrets did containe,
Th'inke will not blush, though paper doth looke pale,
That then through clouds of darke inuentions shin'd:
Whilst I disclos'd, yet not disclos'd my mind,
Obscure to others, but to one ore plaine.
And yet that one did whiles (as th' end may proue)
Not mark, not vnderstand, or else despise,
That (though misterious) language of mine eyes,
Which might haue bene interpreted by loue.
Thus she, what I discouered, yet conceal'd:
Knowes, and not knowes; both hid, and both reueal'd.
HVGE hosts of thoughts imbattled in my brest,
Are euer busied with intestine warres,
And like to Cadmus earth-borne troupes at iarres,
Haue spoil'd my soule of peace, themselues of rest.
Thus forc'd to reape such seed as I haue sowne,
I (hauing interest in this doubtfull strife)
Hope much, feare more, doubt most, vnhappie life.
What euer side preuaile, I 'm still orethrowne:
O neither life nor death! ô both, but bad
Imparadiz'd, whiles in mine owne conceit,
My fancies straight againe imbroyle my state,
And in a moment make me glad and sad.
Thus neither yeelding quite to this nor that,
I liue, I die, I do I wot not what.
A FLAME of lone that glannceth in those eyes,
Where maiestie with sweetnesse mixt remaines,
Doth poure so sweet a poyson in the veines, [dyes.
That who them viewes straight wounded wondring
But yet who would not looke on those cleare skies,
And loue to perish with so pleasant paines,
While as those lights of loue hide beautie's traine
With iuorie orbes, where still two starres arise:
When as those christall comets whiles appeare,
Eye-rauish'd I go gazing on their rayes,
Whilst they enrich'd with many princely prayes,
Ore hosts of hearts triumphing still retire:
Those planets when they shine in their owne kinds,
Do boast t'orethrow whole monarchies of minds.
As Sisiph's stone returnes his guiltie ghost t' appall, I euer raise my hopes so high, they bruise me with their fall.
And if I could in summe my seuerall griefes relate, All would forget their proper harms, and only waile my state.
So grieuous is my paine, so painfull is my griefe, That death, which doth the world affright, wold yeeld to me releefe.
I haue mishaps so long, as in a habit had, [am sad. I thinke I looke not like my selfe, but when that I As birds flie but in th' aire, fishes in seas do diue, So sorrow is as th' element by which I onely liue: Yet this may be admir'd as more then strange in me, Although in all my horoscope not one cleare point I see.
Against my knowledge, yet I many a time rebell, And seeke to gather grounds of hope, a Heau'n amidst a Hell.
O poyson of the mind, that doest the wits bereaue: And shrouded with a cloke of loue dost al the world deceiue. [dash, Thou art the rocke on which my comforts' ship did It's thou that daily in my wounds thy hooked heades dost wash.
Blind tyrant it is thou by whom my hopes lye dead: That whiles throwes forth a dart of gold, and whiles a lumpe of lead. [states,
Thus oft thou woundest two, but in two diffrent Which through a strange antipathy, th' one loues, and th' other hates.
O but I erre I grant, I should not thec vpbraid, It 's I to passion's tyrrannie that haue my selfe betraid: [amisse : And yet this cannot be, my iudgements aymes Ah,deare Avrora,it is thou that ruin'd hast myblisse: A fault that by thy sexe may partly be excus'd, Which stil doth loath what proferd is, affects what is refus'd. [troule, Whilst my distracted thoughts I striu'd for to conAnd with fain'd gestures did disguise the anguish of my soule, [loue, Then with inuiting lookes and accents stampt with The mask that was vpon my mind thou labordst to [spide, And when that once ensnar'd thou in those nets me Thy smiles were shadow'd with disdaines, thy beauties
To reattaine thy grace I wot not how to go: [so? Shall I once fold before thy feete, to pleade for favour No, no, I'le proudly go my wrath for to asswage, And liberally at last enlarge the raines vnto my rage. Ile tell what we were once, our chast (yet feruent) loues, [didst disproue. Whilst in effect thou seem'd t' affect that which thou Whilst once t'engraue thy name vpon a rock I sat, Thou vow'd to write mine in a mind, more firme by far then that: [thine: The marble stone once stampt retaines that name of But ah, thy more then marble mind, it did not so with mine: [againe; So that which thral'd me first, shall set me free Those flames to which thy loue gaue life, shall die with thy disdaine.
But ah, where am I now, how is my judgment lost! I speak as it were in my power, like one that 's free to bost:
Haue I not sold my selfe to be thy beautie's slaue? And when thou tak'st all hope from me, thou tak'st but what thou gaue.
That former loue of thine, did so possesse my mind, That for to harbor other thoughts, no roome remains behind. [wrong,
And th' only means by which I mind t' auenge this
It is, by making of thy praise the burden of my song.
Then why shouldst thou such spite for my goodwil
returne?
[burne?
Was euer god as yet so mad to make his temple
My brest the temple was, whence incense thou re-
ceiu'd,
[would haue sau'd.
And yet thou set'st the same a fire, which others
But why should I accuse Avrora in this wise?
She is as faultlesse as shee's faire, as innocent as wise.
It's but through my mis-lucke, if any fault there be:
For she who was of nature mild, was cruell made
by me.
And since my fortune is, in wo to be bewrapt,
Ile honour her as oft before, and hate mine owne
mishap.
[proue,
Her rigorous course shall serue my loyall part to
And as a touch-stone for to trie the vertue of my loue.
Which when her beautie fades, shall be as cleare as
now,
[her brow:
My constancie it shall be known, when wrinkled is
So that such two againe, shall in no age be found,
She for her face, I for my faith, both worthy to be
crown'd.
WHEN in her face mine eyes I fixe,
A fearefull boldnesse takes my mind,
Sweet hony loue with gall doth mixe,
And is vnkindly kind:
It seemes to breed,
A speciall pleasure to be pin'd.
No danger then I dread :
For though I went a thousand times to Stix,
I know she can reuiue me with her eye;
As many lookes, as many liues to me:
And yet had I a thousand harts,
As
many lookes as many darts, Might make them all to die.
HARD is my fortune, stormie is my state,
And as inconstant as the wauing sea,
Whose course doth still depend vpon the winds:
For lo, my life in danger euery houre,
And though euen at the point for to be lost,
Can find no comfort but a flying show.
And yet I take such pleasure in this show,
That still I stand coutented with my state,
Although that others thinke me to be lost:
And whilst I swim amidst a dangerous sea,
Twixt feare and hope, are looking for the houre,
When my last breath should glide amongst the winds.
Lo, to the sea-man beaten with the winds,
Sometimes the Heau'ns a smiling face will show,
So that to rest himselfe he finds some houre.
But nought (ay me) can euer calme my state,
Who with my teares as I would make a sea,
Am flying Silla in Charibdis lost.
I SWEARE, Aurora, by thy starrie eyes,
And by those golden lockes whose locke none slips,
And by the corall of thy rosie lippes,
And by the naked snowes which beautie dies,
I sweare by all the iewels of thy mind,
Whose like yet neuer worldly treasure bought,
Thy solide iudgement and thy generous thought,
Which in this darkened age haue clearely shin'd:
I sweare by those, and by my spotlesse loue,
And by my secret, yet most feruent fires,
That I haue neuer nurc'd but chast desires,
And such as modestie might well approue.
Then since I loue those vertuous parts in thee,
Shouldst thou not loue this vertuous mind in me?
WHEN first I view'd that ey-enchanting face,
Which for the world chiefe treasure was esteem'd,
I judging simply all things as they seem'd,
Thought humble lookes had promist pitie place ;
Yet were they but ambushments, to deceiue
My ore-rash heart that fear'd no secret fires:
Thy bashfulnesse emboldned my desires,
Which seem'd to offer what I was to craue.
Can crueltie then borrow beautie's shape?
And pride so decke it selfe with modest lookes?
Too pleasant baites to hide such poison'd hookes,
Whose vnsuspected slight none can escape.
Who can escape this more then diuellish art,
When golden haires disguise a brazen heart?
Aн, that it was my fortune to be borne,
Now in the time of this degener'd age,
When some, in whom impietie doth rage,
Do all the rest discredit whilst they scorne.
And this is growne to such a custome now,
That those are thought to haue the brauest spirits,
Who can faine fancies and imagine merits:
As who but for their lusts of loue allow.
And yet in this I had good hap, I find,
That chanc'd to chaine my thoughts to such an one,
Whose judgement is so cleare, that she anone
Can by the outward gestures iudge the mind.
Yet wit and fortune rarely waite on one,
She knowes the best, yet can make choice of none.
STAY, blubring pen, to spot one that 's so pure; She is my loue, although she be vnkind,
I must admire that diamantine mind,
And praise those eyes that do my death procure:
Nor will I willingly those thoughts endure,
That are to such apostasie inclin❜d.
Shall she, euen she in whom all vertue shin'd,
Be wrong'd by me? shall I her worth iniure?
No, rather let me die, and die disdain'd,
Long ere I thinke, much lesse I speake the thing,
That may disgrace vnto her beautie bring,
Who ore my fancies hath so sweetly raign'd.
If any pitying me will damne her part,
I'le make th' amends, and for her errour smart.
SWEET blushing goddesse of the golden morning,
Faire patronesse of all the world's affaires,
Thou art become so carelesse of my cares,
That I must name thee goddesse of my mourning.
Lo, how the Sunne part of thy burthen beares,
And whilest thou doest ir pearly drops regrate,
As 't were to pitie thy distressed state,
Exhales the christall of thy glistring teares;
But I poure forth my vowes before thy shrine,
And whilst thou dost my louing zeale despise,
Do drowne my heart in th' ocean of mine eyes;
Yet daign'st thou not to drie these teares of mine,
Vnlesse it be with th' Etna of desires,
Which euen amidst those floods doth foster fires.
LOVE so engag'd my fancies to that faire,
That whilst I liue I shall aduance her name,
And imping stately fethers in her fame,
May make it glide more glorious through the aire:
So she in beautic's right shall haue her share,
And I who striue her praises to proclaime,
Encourag'd with so excellent a theame,
May rest inrold among those that were rare.
O if my wit were equall with her worth!
Th' Antipodes all rauish'd by report,
Fron regions most remou'd should here resort,
To gaze vpon the face which I set forth:
Or were my wit but equall with my will,
I with her praise both Titan's bowers should fill.
Lo, how that Time doth still disturbe my peace,
And hath his course to my confusion bent;
For when th' occasion kindly giues consent,
That I should feed vpon Aurora's face:
Then mounted on the chariot of the Sunne,
That tyrant Time doth post so fast away,
That whilst I but aduise what I should say,
I'm forc'd to end ere I haue well begun:
And then againe it doth so slowly flie,
Whilst I leane her whom I hold onely deare,
Each minute makes an houre, each houre a yeare,
Yeares lusters seeme, one luster ten to me.
Thus changing course to change my state I know,
In presence time proues swift, in absence slow.
I SAW Sixe gallant nymphes, I saw but one,
One stain'd them all, one did them onely grace:
And with the shining of her beauteous face,
Gaue to the world new light when it had none.
Then when the god that guides the light was gone,
And ore the hils directed had his race,
A brighter farre then he supplide his place,
And lightned our horizon here anone.
The rest pale moones were bettered by this sunne,
They borrowed beames from her star-staining eyes:
Still when she sets her lights, their shining dies,
And at their opening is againe begun:
Phoebus all day I would be bard thy light,
For to be shin'd on by this sunne at night.
CLEARE mouing cristall, pure as the Sunne beames,
Which had the honour for to be the glasse
Of the most daintie beautie euer was;
And with her shadow did enrich thy streames,
Thy treasures now cannot be bought for monie,
Whilst she dranke thee, thou drank'st thy fill of loue,
And of those roses didst the sweetnes proue,
From which the bees of loue do gather honie:
Th' ambrosian liquor that he fils aboue,
Whom th' eagle rauish'd from th' inferior round,
It is not like this nectar (though renown'd)
Which thou didst tast, whilst she her lips did moue:
But yet beware, lest burning with desires,
That all thy waters cannot quench thy fires.
I ENUIE not Endimion now no more,
Nor all the happinesse his sleepe did yeeld,
While as Diana, straying through the field,
Suck'd from his sleep-seal'd lippes balme for her sore:
Whil'st I embrac'd the shadow of my death,
I dreaming did farre greater pleasure proue,
And quaff'd with Cupid sugred draughts of loue,
Then, Ioue-like, feeding on a nectar'd breath:
Now iudge which of vs two might be most prowd;
He got a kisse yet not enioy'd it right,
And I got none, yet tasted that delight
Which Venus on Adonis once bestow'd:
He onely got the bodie of a kisse,
And I the soule of it, which he did misse.
Fiz giue thee leaue, my loue, in beauties field
To reare red colours whiles, and bend thine eyes;
Those that are bashfull still, I quite despise,
Such simple soules are too soone mou'd to yeeld:
Let maiestie arm'd in thy count'nance sit,
As that which will no iniurie receiue;
And I'le not hate thee, whiles although thou haue
A sparke of pride, so it be rul'd by wit.
This is to chastitie a powerfull guard,
Whilst haughtie thoughts all seruile things eschue,
That sparke hath power the passions to subdue,
And would of glorie chalenge a reward:
But do not fall in loue with thine owne selfe;
Narcissus earst was lost on such a shelfe.
ASPIRING sprite, flie low, yet flie despaire,
Thy haughtie thoughts the heau'nly powers despise.
'Thus ballanc'd, lo, betwixt the Earth and th' aire,
I wot not whether for to fall or rise;
Through desperate dangers whiles I scale the skies,
As if that nought my courage could restraine,
When lo, anon downe in the center lies
[taine;
That restlesse mind, which th' Heau'ns did once con-
I toyle for that which I cannot attaine:
Yet fortune nought but ficklenesse affoords:
Where I haue bene, I hope to be againe ;
She once must change, her common course records.
Although my hap be hard, my heart is hie,
And it must mount, or else my bodie die.
THE thoughts of those I cannot but disproue,
Who basely lost their thraldome must bemone:
I scorne to yeeld my seife to such a one,
Whose birth and vertue is not worth my loue.
No, since it is my fortune to be thrall,
I must be fettred with a golden band;
And if I die, I'le die by Hector's hand:
So may the victor's fame excuse my fall;
And if by any meanes I must be blind,
Then it shall be by gazing on the Sunne;
Oft by those meanes the greatest haue bene wonne,
Who must like best of such a generous mind:
At least by this I haue allow'd of fame,
Much honour if I winne, if lose, no shame.
THEN whilst that Lathmos did containe her blisse,
Chast Phoebe left her church so much admir'd,
And when her brother from that bounds retir'd,
Would of the sleepie shepheard steale a kisse,
Bat to no greater grace I craue to clime,
Then of my goddesse whiles whilst she reposes,
That I might kisse the stil-selfekissing roses,
And steale of her that which was stolne of him;
And though I know that this would onely proue,
A maim'd delight, whereof th' one halfe would want,
Yet whilst the light did Morpheus power supplant:
If that my theft did her displeasure moue,
I render would all that I robb'd againe,
And for each kisse I take would giue her twaine.
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