Poems of William Shakespeare, according to the text of the original copies : including the lyrics, songs and snatches found in his dramas

"Arranged and carefully colated with the originals by F. S. Ellis and printed at the the Essex House Press, under the care of C. R. Ashbee, December, 1899."--Colophon. Published by Edward Arnold. Printed in black and red. Illustrated with floriated initials and one full-page drawing. Bound in vellum with ties. Edition of four hundred and fifty copies. This copy is number 274

Tara ANE IE HE POEMS OF JARSPEARE i { ce ea oe fet ‘i 7 shaadi pal be THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,ACCORDING TO THE TEXT OF THE ORIGINAL COPIES, INCLUDING THE LYRICS, SONGS, AND SNATCHES FOUND IN HIS DRAMAS. VENUS AND ADONIS THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Page 1-40 41-111 113-193 SONNETS 195-208 LOVER’S COMPLAINT POEMS FROM THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM $ 209-213 THE PHO@:NIX AND TURTLE 214-216 LYRICS,SONGS AND SNATCHES FROM THE DRAMAS— THE TEMPEST 219-221 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM ~ THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 221 221-225 225 TWELFTH 225-227 MUCH NIGHT ADO ABOUT NOTHING LOVE’S LABOUR LOST MEASURE FOR MEASURE MERCHANT OF VENICE AS YOU LIKE IT 227-228 229-232 233 233 233-239 ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL 239-240 A WINTER’S TALE HENRY IV. 240-242 24.2 HENRY VIII. 243 HAMLET CYMBELINE OTHELLO 243-245 245-246 246-247 KING LEAR 247-250 MACBETH 251-252 TIMON OF ATHENS ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 252 253 253 Uy ORS io) IGHT oN Honourable, I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpol- By Buy), © isht lines to your Lordship, nor how the worldewill censure mee for choosing so strong a proppe to support so 1 weake a burthen, onelye if your Hon- <) our seeme but pleased, I account my selfe highly praised, and vowe to take advantage of all idle houres, till I have honoured you with some graver laf my invention prove deformed,I shall be sorie it had so noble a god-father: and never after eare so barren a land, for feare it yeeld me still so bad a harvest,I leave it to your Honourable survey, and your Honor to your hearts content which I wish may alwaies answere your owne wish, and the worlds hope- full expectation. Your Honors in all dutie, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. }VEN as the sunne with purple-colour’d face, Had tane his last leave of the weeping morne, Rose-cheekt Adonis hied him to the chace, Hunting he lov’d, but love he laught to scorne: Sick-thoughted Venus makes amaine unto him, And like a bold fac’d suter ginnes to woo him. G i HRISE fairer then my selfe, (thus she began) / The fields chiefe flower, sweet above compare, i Staine to all nimphs, more lovely then a man, iS \ More white, and red, then doves, or roses are: Nature that made thee with her selfe at strife, Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. ’ CZ ‘ OUCHSAFE thou wonder to alight thy steed, gpy And raine his proud head to the saddle bow, Q) If thou wilt daine this favor, for thy meed Wy yy y ( . iy W) cs\ y A485} A thousand honie secrets shalt thou know: Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses, And being set, Ile smother thee with kisses. ‘iy c WCe (cA 4 pa ND yet not cloy thy lips with loth’d sacietie, But rather famish them amid their plentie, (ZW Making them red and pale, with fresh varietie: ZA Y Ten kisses short as one, one long as twentie: A sommers day will seeme an houre but short, Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport. < ITH this she ceazeth on his sweating palme, A The president of pith, and livelyhood, calls it balme, F\ % And trembling & in her passion, P Earths soveraigne salve, to do a goddesse good; Being s o enrag’d, desire doth lend her force, Conegtauly to plucke him from his horse. ie OTe VER one arme the lustie coursers raine, a Under her other was the tender boy, ORST to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face. pe f=) Who blusht, and powted in a dull disdaine, AS #179 She feedeth on the steame, as on a pray, 4 And calls it heavenly moisture, aire of grace, With leaden appetite, unapt to toy; She red, and hot, as coles of glowing fier, Wishing her cheeks were gardens ful of flowers, He red for shame, but frostie in desier. So they were dew’d with such distilling showers. HE studded bridle on a ragged bough, FRO OKE how a bird lyes tangled in a net, a4€ So fast’ned in her armes Adonis lyes, Nimbly she fastens, (O how quicke is love!) ¥ The steed is stalled up, and even now, oe §@) e Pure shame and aw’d resistance made him fret, To tie the rider she begins to prove: Backward she pusht him, as she would be thrust, And govern’d him in strength though not in lust. 22 Which bred more beautie in his angrieeyes: Raine added to a river that is ranke, Perforce will force it overflow the banke. TILL she intreats, and prettily intreats, For to a prettie eare she tunes her tale. O soone was she along, as he was downe, i1g227 Each leaning on their elbowes and their hips: Cir’ ) Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, & And gins to chide, but soone she stops his lips, gz BaXr'g y Still is he sullein, still he lowres and frets, & Twixt crimson shame, and anger ashie pale: And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, Being red she loves him best, and being white, If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open. Her best is better’d with a more delight. E burnes with bashfull shame, she with her teares AR Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheekes, ms Then with her windie sighes, and golden heares, To fan, and blow them drie againe she seekes. He saith, she is immodest, blames her misse, What followes more, she murthers with a kisse. —» 4 VEN as an emptie eagle sharpe by fast, Tires with her beake on feathers, flesh, and bone, / Shaking her wings, devouring all in hast, ) Till either gorge be stuft, or pray be gone: Even so she kist his brow, his cheeke, his chin, And where she ends, she doth anew begin. 2 ~ OOKE how he can, she cannot chuse but love, ug And by her faire immortall hand she sweares, G ) b) From his soft bosome never to remove, = Till he take truce with her contending teares, g have rain’d, making her cheeks al wet, And one sweet kisse shal pay this comptlesse debt. Q PON this promise did he raise his chin, eg) Like a divedapper peering through a wave, » Who being lookt on, ducks as quickly in: = So offers he to give what she did crave, ° But when her lips were readie for his pay, He winks, and turnes his lips another way. b2 Wea EVER did passenger in sommers heat, good turne, d | More thirst for drinke, then she for this cannot get, 2 <= Her helpe she sees, but helpe she burne: must fire her NOD & She bathes in water, yet h pitie gan she crie, flint-hearted boy, coy? is but a kisse I begge, why art thou CEP VCART thou asham’d to kisse? then winke againe, KY i ie And I will winke, so shall the day scared Sithe == |) Love keepes his revels where there are but twaine; WO.% Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: These blew-vein’d violets whereon we leane, Never can blab, nor know not what we meane. sy) ea b> HE tender spring upon thy tempting lip, (AY) Shewes thee unripe; yet maist thou well be tasted, Make use of time, let not advantage slip, Ly\* now, hie] HAVE bene wooed asI intreat thee | Even by the sterne, and direfull god of warre, Whose sinowie necke in battell nere did bow, hea We e jarre: (A Who conquers where he comes in everi a Yet hath he bene my captive, and my slave, And beg’d for that which thou unaskt shalt have. @CIGBR fo LAD SOS EL Ss VER my Altars hath he hong his launce, : : : His batt’red shield, his uncontrolled crest, And for my sake hath learn’d to sport, & daunce, 7RG To toy, to wanton, dallie, smile, and jest: Scorning his churlish drumme, and ensigne red, Making my armes his field, his tent my bed. Rot, and consume them selves in litle time. ERE I hard-favour’d, foule, or wrinckled old, rT AN wv) LA [l-nurtur’d, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, ie Ore-worne, despised, reumatique, and cold, RD Thick-sighted, barren, leane, andlackingjuyce; Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee, But having no defects, why doest abhor me? ae Ww Leading him prisoner in a red rose chaine, f Strong-temper’d steele his stronger strength obayed, Yet was he servile to my coy disdaine: a Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, For maist’ring her that foyl'd the god of fight. OUCH but my lips with those faire lips of thine, Though mine be not sofaire, yet are they red, of The kisse shal be thine owne as well as mine: () What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head: Looke in mine ey-bals, there thy beautie lyes, Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? / 4 HOU canst not see one wrinckle in my brow, Mine eyes are grey, and bright, and quicke in turning: re { (AY Go pa) HUS he that over-rul’d,I over-swayed, Ed S) Beautie within it selfe should not be wasted: @ Faire flowers that are not gath’red in their prime, L)S¢ My beautie as the spring doth yearelie grow, = es My flesh is soft, and plumpe,my marrow burning: My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, , seeme to melt. Would in thy palme dissolveor ) Or like a fairie, trip upon the greene, “py _) Or like a nimph, with long disheveled heare, w=! Daunce on the sands, and yet no footing seene: Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not grosse to sinke, but light, and will aspire. a eee TASKS ITNESSE this primrose banke whereon I lie, yw A These forcelesse flowers like sturdy treessupport me: VWs Two strengthles doves will draw me through the skie 47> From morne till night,even where I list to sport me: o™= Vv CIV24 ey EN SS aN T DS X % That thou should thinke it heavie unto thee? Sowring his cheekes, cries: Fie,no more of love, The sunne doth burne my face; I must remove. (V Is love so light sweet boy, and may it be, A iS S thine owne heart to thine owne face affected? YSuA ait Can thy y right right hand hand ceaze ] love upon thy thyleft left? ef EyZN ag Then woo thy selfe, be of thy selfe rejected: ae. WA Steale thine own freedome, and complaine on theft. Narcissus so him selfe him selfe forsooke, And died to kisse his shadow in the brooke. ORCHES are made to light, jewels to weare, eR IS) 4 Dainties to tast, fresh beautie for the use, Herbes for their smell, and sappie plants to beare. Things growing to them selves, are growths abuse: Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty, Thou wast begot, to get it is thy duty. Rp Lay c os LK a PON the earths increase why shouldst thou feed, Unlesse the earth with thy increase be fed? By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may live, when thou thy selfe art dead: And so in Spite of death thou doest survive, In that thy likenesse still is left alive. “= ae le. NS “2 this the love-sicke Queene began to sweate, For where they y lay Jay the the shad sh ow had forsooke them, And Titan, tired in the midday heate, With burning eye did hotly over-looke them: Wishing Adonis had his teame to guide , So eee like him, and by Venus side. ND now Adonis with a lazie sprite, And with a heavie, darke, disliking eye, His lowring browes ore-whelming his faire sight, Like mistie vapors when they blot the skie, CIV A_44 Y, me, (quoth Venus) young, and so unkinde, Ney Mk Ver What a excuses vee ati to be gon? p= ZA) Ile sigh celestiall breath, whose gentle winde, WSE\ VY shall coole the heate of this descending sun: Ile make a shadow for thee of my heares; If they burn too, Ile quench them with my teares. fy EW Ng ay HE \) (@) su sun that shines from heaven, shines but warme, 1 And lo I lye betweene that sunne and thee: The heate I have from thence doth little harme, Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me: And were I not immortall, life were done, Betweene this heavenly and earthly sunne. Z4RT thou obdurate, flintie, hard as steele? LR ey a se, Nay more than flint? for stone at raine relenteth; &) Uy Art thou a womans sonne and canst not feele la y By Ff TsO.% What tisto love, how want of love tormenteth? O had thy mother borne so hard a minde, She had not brought forth thee, but diec unkind. ee HAT am I that thou shouldst contemne me this? Or what great danger dwels upon my sute? BWA What were thy lips the worse for one poore kis? \s KT Speake faire, but speake faire words, or else be mute: JO_A Give me one kisse, Ile give it thee againe, And one for int’rest, if thou wilt have twaine. Li IE, livelesse picture, cold and sencelesse stone, K4) Well painted idoll, image, dull-and dead, Wry Statue, contenting but the eye alone, Thing like a man, but of no woman bred: SHV F T this Adonis smiles as in disdaine, ieined That in ech cheeke appeares a prettie dimple; a ZA) Love made those hollowes, if him selfe were slaine, hay if 5 ) a OY He mi ght be buried in a tombe so simple; Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, Why there love liv’d,and there he could not die. NO Thou art no man, though ofa mans complexion, For men will kisse even by their owne direction. HIS said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, y) , And swelling passion doth provoke a pause, Red cheeks, and fierie eyes blaze forth her wrong: iS Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: And now she weeps, and now she faine would speake And now her sobs do her intendments breake. : HESE lovely caves, these round inchanting pits, Open’d their mouthes to swallow Venus liking: Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? ex Strucke dead at first, what needs a second striking? Poore Queene of love, in thine own law forlorne, To love a cheeke that smiles at thee in scorne. | OMETIMES she shakes her head, and then his hand, 22 Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; Sometime her armes infold him like a band; & She would, he will not in her armes be Boule And when from thence he struggles to be gone Her words are done, her woes the more increasing, 4) The time is spent, her object will away, @$ And from her twining armes doth urge releasing: Pitie she cries, some favour, some remorse, She locks her lillie fingers one in one. y OW which way shall she turne? what shall she say? Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. OND LING, she saith, since I have hem’d thee here R44 Within the circuit of this ivori e pale, - ne i thou shalt be my deare: eed where thou wilt, on i i Graze on my lips, and if those hils be desired 22 ‘tom gd Stray lower, where the pleasant fountaines lie, ; < ITHIN this limit is reliefe ino at Sweet botttometome grasse, and highugh, deligh i i tful ay A breeding jennet, lustie, young, and proud, Adonis trampling courser doth espy: And forth she rushes, snorts, and neighs aloud: pling The strong-neckt steed being tied unto a tree, Breaketh his raine, and to her straight goes hee. +9 MPERIOUSLY heleaps, he neighs, he bounds, plain 1 e, 7 Round rising hillocks, bieslé escbecuns and Pair RZ To shelter-thee from temp est, and from raine: € my deare, since I am such a parke No “og shal rowze thee, though a thousand bark. 9 UT lo from forth a copps that neighbors by, Ss a) MN) ye And now his woven girthes he breaks asunder, The bearing earth with his hard hoofe he wounds, Whose hollow wombe resounds like heavens thunder: The yron bit he crusheth tweene his teeth, Controlling what he was controlled with. aA viv IS eares up prickt, his braided hanging mane | gx fo..\ Upon his compast crest now stand on end, my FA) His nostrils drinke the aire, and forth againe As from a fornace, vapors doth he send: ch scornfully glisters like fire, Shewes his hote courage, and his high desire. OMETIME he trots, as if he told the steps, t/a22 With gentle majestie, and modest pride, SS } i Anon he reres upright, curvets, and leaps, As who should say,lo thus my strength is tride: And this I do, to captivate the eye, Of the faire breeder that is standing by. ar rr HAT recketh he his riders angrie sturre, His flattering holla, or his: stand,I say, What cares he now, for curbe, or pricking spurre, ¥ For rich caparisons, or trappings gay: He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, he scuds farre off, and there he stares, Anon he starts, at sturring of a feather: ) To bid the wind a base he now prepares, Oi And where he runne, or flie, they know not whether: For through his mane, and taile, the high wind sings, Fanning the haires, who wave like feath’red wings. E lookes upon his love, and neighes unto her, \ She answers him, as if she knew his minde, Being proud as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seemes unkinde: Spurnes at his love, and scorns the heat he feeles, Beating his kind imbracements with her heeles. HEN like a melancholy malcontent, He vailes his taile that like a falling plume, ¥ Coole shadow to his melting buttocke lent, He stamps, and bites the poore flies in his fume: His love perceiving how he was inrag’d, Grew kinder, and his furie was asswag’d. For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. COB ORE when a painter would surpasse the life, “ Ons In limming out a well proportioned steed, Nes ie His art with Natures workmanship at strife, =D As if the dead the living should exceed: So did this horse excell a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. IS testie maister goeth about to take him, When lo the unbackt breeder full of feare, FY Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, With her the horse, and left Adonis there: As they were mad unto the wood they hie them, Outstripping crowes, that strive to overfly them. Q% ae OUND hooft, short joynted, fetlocks shag, and long, A ' a p>: Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostrill wide, IN » GH High crest, short eares, straight legs,&passing strong, y Thin mane, thicke taile, broad buttock, tender hide: Looke what a ;horse should have, he did not lack > Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 10 OMETIME J) ; CI \A_24 LL swolne with chasing, downe Adonis sits, ey BN Banning his boystrous, and unruly beast; f ed And now the happie season once more fits y BIO.% That lovesicke love, by pleading may be blest: For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong, When it is bar’d the aydance of the tongue. PAN oven that is stopt, or river stayd, Wa A\L4 Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: ro a AY So of concealed sorow may be sayd, DYIG X Free vent of words loves fier doth asswage; But when the hearts atturney once is mute, The client breakes, as desperat in his sute. Sy-S3 © Lookes on the dull earth with disturbed minde: Taking no notice that she is so nye, For all askance he holds her in his eye. Q e Pee \ f2 N WHAT LD ghts began: = NCE more the engin of her thou d, all roun Ka.9 O fairest mover on this mort Ia man, Wy Would thou wert as I am,and heart my wound; thy e, thin as e whol all t hear GA My would assure thee, For one sweet looke thy helpe I wold cure thee. Thogh nothing but my bodies bane dost thou feele it? IVE me my hand (saith he,) why thou shalt have it. asight it was wistly to view, How she came stealing to the wayward boy, Gp") To note the fighting conflict of her hew, ©) How white and red, ech other did destroy: But now her cheeke was pale, and by and by It flasht forth fire,as light’ning from the skie. Then and § Give me my heart (saith she,) do steele it, t hear hard thy lest me g O give it never grave it: can WY And being steel’d, soft sighes rd, rega l loves deepe grones,I never shal made mine hard. Because Adonis heart hath Ye OW was she just before him as he sat \ jrad | And like a lowly lover downe she kneeled 2“ With one faire hand she heaveth up his hat, inca Her other tender hand his faire cheeke feeles: His tend’rer cheeke, receives her soft hands print As apt as new falne snow takes any dint. ay aoe — a war of lookes was then betweene them, ak — eyes petitioners to his eyes suing, Zi is eyes saw her eyes, as they had not seene them, 4 Her eyes wooed still, his eyes disdain’ ing: all this dumbe play had his acts ale eis i mconl ith tears which chorus-like her eyes did rain. i 12 8 A lillie prison’d in a gaile of snow, Or ivorie in an allablaster band, a fo: So white a friend, ingirts so white g, llin and unwi This beautious combat wilfull, sit a billing. that s dove er silv two Showed like Y..| Even asa dying coale revives with winde, re Ady And with his bonnet hides his angrie brow, by the hand, ULL gently now she takes him See E sees her comming, and begins to glow: ae (Za By) Cs Ws nd let me go, OR shame he cries, let go,a ght is past, my horse is gone, My dayes deli him so, And tis your fault I am bereft here alone: I pray you hence, and leave me , care e busi For all my mind, my thought, my . Is how to get my palfrey from the mare as he should, HUS she replies: Thy palfrey of sweet desire, och appr me war the Welcomes cool’d; be ¢ Affection is a coale that must on fire: t hear the Else suffer’d it will set XB) @ , none hath re desi e deep The sea hath bounds, but . gone be e hors thy gh thou ell Therfore no marv OW like a jade he stood tied to the tree, Ym.) Servilly maister’d with a leatherne raine, FS) But when he saw his love, his youths faire fee, He held such pettie bondage in disdaine: Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, Enfranchisin g his mouth, his backe, his brest. jOU hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, } And leave this idle theame, this bootlesse chat: y Remove your siege from my unyeelding hart; ©) To loves allarmes it will not ope the gate. Dismisse your vows, your fained tears, your flatt’ry; For where a heart is hard they make no batt’ry. ASRS HO sees his true-love in her naked bed, (v TZ Teaching the sheets a whiter hew then white, yx But when his glutton eye so full hath fed, A \ His other agents ayme at like delight? Whois so faint that dares not be so bold, To touch the fier the weather being cold? I had my lode before, now And learne of him I heartily beseech thee, ( NaS NP To take advantage on presented joy; Though I were dumbe, yet his proceedings teach thee. O learne to love, the lesson is but plai ne, Zu SS )) And once made perfect, never lost againe. a ee AD I no eyes but eares, my eares would love, ( h That inward beautie and invisible, ras AY that the sence of feeling were bereft me, 22 And that I could not see, nor heare, nor touch, ) And nothing but the verie smell were left me, bea boare, and then I chase it, h to borrow, and I will not 4 My love to love,is love, but to disg owe it; race it; For I have heard, it is a life in deat h, That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath. ¢ HO weares a garment shapelesse and 4 Who plucks the bud before one leafe unfinisht? put forth? A If springing things be anie jot diminisht, “23 They with er in their prime, prove nothing worth; It that’s backt and burthen’d being yong, Loseth his pride, and never wax 14 eth strong. Or were I deafe, thy outward parts would move eS Ech part in me, that were but sensible, Though neither eyes, nor eares, to heare nor see, Yet should I be in love, by touching thee. 4] KNOW not love (quoth he) nor will not know it, Unlesse it Tis muc prest with bearing: Mellodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding, Fares deep-sweet musik, and harts deep-sore wounding. ) (YAASQET e me excuse thy courser gentle boy, } vis O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing; Thy marmaides voice hath done me double wrong; I} | omni) ( Ay < -HRES UT oh what banquet wert thou to the tast, Being nourse and feeder of the other foure, Would they not wish the feast might ever last, And bid suspition double locke the dore; Lest jealousie that sower unwelcome guest, Should, by his stealing in, disturbe the feast? CIO AG NCE more the rubi-colour’d portall open’d, 7\\D\ Which to his speech did honie passage yeeld; Tn eA) y N eps) Like a red morne that a\ HE night of sorrow now is turn’d to day: ever yet betoken’d, ‘N 3) Wracke to the sea-man, tempest to the field: Sorrow to shepherds, wo unto the birds, Gusts, and foule flawes, to heardmen, and to herds. G) wy) HIS ill presage advisedly she marketh: No ay Even as the wind is husht before it raine th, iw L Or as the wolfe doth grin before he barke th, MOS) Or as the berrie breakes before it stain eth, Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, His meaning strucke her ere his words begun. ~ Her two blew windowes faintly she upheaveth, ./ ee And as the bright sunne glorifies the skie, So is her face illumin’d with her eye. ZAA_ ‘ iy = Vv But hers, which through the cristal tears gave light, Shone like the moone in water seene by night. B WHERE y\ _Y But blessed bankrout that by love so thriveth! Claps her pale cheeke, till clapping makes it red, SVE ND all amaz’d, brake off his late intent, wy Se For sharply he did thinke to reprehend her, re »} i = Which cunning love did wittily prevent: Py aD aa — Faire-fall the wit that can so well defend her! For on the grasse she lyes as she were slaine Till his breath breatheth life in her againe, Pa | E wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheekes, fx) He bend her s fing ers, hold her s puls es hard: BV afes h cS 'To mend th He kisses her, and she by her goodwill, Will Hever rise I , so he will kisse her still, HOSE beames upon his hairelesse face are fixt, Asif from thence they borrowed all their shine. % Were never foure such lamps, together mixt, AZ Had not his clouded with his browes repine; g GNP at his looke she flatly falleth downe, Bey re For lookes kill love, and love by lookes reviveth: ” = as A smile recures the wounding ofa frowne, AtG The sillie boy beleeving she is dead, yi Like the faire sunne when in his fresh array He cheeres the morne, &all theearth releeveth: SW) =) am I (quoth she,) in earth or heaven, or in thefire? Or in the ocean drencht, What houre is this? or morne, or wearie even? 273) Do I delight to die, or life desire? But now I liv’d, and life was deaths annoy, But now I dy’de, and death was lively joy. IAQ THOU didst kill me; kill me once againe; tay Thy eyes shrowd tutor, that hard heart of thine, roy Hath taught them scornfull tricks, and such disdaine, QOG That they have murdred this poore heart of mine; And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queene, 7 But for thy piteous lips no more had seene. 7 ey ONG may they kisse ech other for this cure! oe Oh never let their crimson liveries weare! A\ Andas they last, their verdour still endure, € To drive infection from the dangerous yeare: ar-gazers having writ on death, May say, the plague is banisht by thy breath. ¢c 17 ILL breathlesse he disjoynd, and backward drew The heavenly moisture, that sweet corall mouth, Whose precious tast, her thirstie lips well knew, Fy, What bargaines may I make still to be sealing? GN To sell my selfe I can be well contented, GI So thou wilt buy,and pay, and use good dealing, Which purchase if thou make, for feare of slips, Set thy seale manuell on my wax-red lips. CA em A, = THOUSAND kisses buyes my heart from me; And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. What is ten hundred touches unto thee, Y B36.% Are they not quickly told, and quickly gone? Say for non-paiment, that the debt should double, Is twentie hundred kisses such a trouble? ) ohh AIRE Queene (quoth he) ifanie love you owe me, g Ne Measure my strangenesse with my unripe yeares; 2) Before I know my selfe, seeke not to know me, BS No fisher but the ungrowne frie forbeares: The mellow plum doth fall, the greene sticks fast, Or being early pluckt, is sower to tast. VPXQOOKE, the worlds comforter with wearie gate, a\ et ye His dayes hot taske hath ended in the west; ey Uhe owle (nights herald) shreeks, tis verie late; Y ‘The sheepe are gone to fold, birds to their nest; And cole-black clouds, that shadow heavens light, Do summon us to part, and bid good night. SASS OW let me say goodnight x ght, , and andso say 18 Whereon they surfet, yet complaine on drouth: Their lips together glewed, fall to the earth. = nae OW quicke desire hath caught the yeelding pray, C7yes i | And gluttonlike she feeds, yet never filleth; ie (| N Her lips are conquerers, his lips obay, >~-/@ © Paying what ransome the insulter willeth: Whose vultur thought doth pitch the price so hie, That she will draw his lips rich treasure drie. CIN 44 ND having felt the sweetnesse of the spoile, jb’4 V7 With blindfold furie she begins to forrage; Z Her face doth reeke, and smoke, her blood doth boile, a ZA) And carelesse lust stirs up a desperat courage; VY WSO_% \ Planting oblivion, beating reason backe, Forgetting shames pure blush, and honors wracke. BESO v2 a PAS OT, faint, and wearie, with her hard imbracing, \ Likeawild bird being tam’d with too much handling, Oras the fleet-foot roe that’s tyr’d with chasing, YESS ! Or like the froward infant stil’d with dandling: He now obayes, and now now no more resisteth, While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. ¢ HAT waxe so frozen but dissolves with temp’ring, A And yeelds at last to everie light impression? you; ; nN) If you will say so, you shall have a lise =< Good night (quoth she) and ere he sayes adue, @ S$ The honie fee of parting tendred is; Her armes do lend his necke a sweet imbrace; Incorporate then they seeme, face growes to face. XS) <@ He with her plentie prest, she faint with dearth, ex Things out of hope, are compast oft with vent’ring, 42% Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: Affection faints not like a pale-fac’d coward, But then woes best, when most his choice is froward. cz 19 : STN ee OSs KSAVEN so poore birds deceiv’d with painted grapes, ¢ HEN he did frowne, O had she then gave over, d1 a Such nectar from his lips she had not suckt. 6") SPOR, Foule wordes, and frownes, must not repell a lover; SAA RD) What though the rose have prickles? yet tis pluckt: Were beautie under twentie locks kept fast, pittie now she can no more detaine him; \ XatX4 ne The poore foole praies her that he may depart; IZ, PY Wace, She is resolv’d sain ger to restraine hina FT ROBC Bids him farewell,and looke well to her hart, The which, by Cupids bow she doth protest, He carries thence incaged in his brest. WEET boy, she saies, this night Ile wast in sorrow, Nelgzee For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. aN'G ) Tell me loves maister, shall we meete to morrow? & Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match? He tells her, no; to morrow he intends To hunt the boare with certaine of his frends. r=) HE boare! (quoth she) whereat a suddain 5 pale, Like lawne being spred upon the blnshige ree ; ; Usurpes her cheeke; she trembles at his tale, “a Andon his neck her yoaking armes she throwes: She sincketh downe, still hanging by his necke, He on her belly falls, she on her backe. £ OW is she in the verie lists of love, | Her champion mounted for the hot incounter, SNH All is imaginarie she doth prove, 2 He will not mannage her, although he mount her, That worse then Tantalus is her annoy, To clip Elizium, and to lacke her joy. 20 The warme effects which she in him finds missing, She seekes to kindle with continuall kissing. Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. 4 yo" . Do surfet by the eye, and pine the maw: Even so she languisheth in her mishaps, those poore birds that helplesse berries saw. As 3 ) Ad a iy JUT all in vaine, good Queene, it will not bee: }y She hath assai’d as much as may be prov’d; Her pleading hath deserv’d a greater fee, y Zar) She’s Love; she loves, and yet she is not lov’d. Fie, fie, he saies, you crush me; let me go; You have no reason to withhold me so. HOU hadst bin gone (quoth she) sweet boy ere this, But that thou toldst me thou woldst hunt the boare. Oh be advis’d, thou know’st not what it is, With javelings point a churlish swine to goare, es Whose tushes never sheath’d, he whetteth still, Like to a mortall butcher, bent to kill. he hath a battell set ) N his bow-backe, BY Of brisly pikes that ever threat his foes, Ly EG His eyes like glow-wormes shine when he doth fret; His snout digs sepulchers where ere he goes, Being mov’d, he strikes what ere is in his way, And whom he strikes, his crooked tushes slay. IS brawnie sides, with hairie bristles armed, ,_) Are better proofe then thy speares point can enter; \ His short thick necke cannot be easily harmed; Being irefull, on the lyon he will venter: The thornie brambles and imbracing bushes, As fearefull of him, part; through whom he rushes. ae Vian! RII 124 LAS, he naught esteems that face of thine, To which i 8 eyes paie tributarie gazes, hesJESE WS ke Nor thy soft handes,sweet lips,and christall eine, Y WG XY Whose full perfection all the world amazes; But having thee at vantage (wondrous dread!) as he roots the mead. Wold roote these beauties, 7\\)\ Beautie hath naught to do with such foule fiends, ANG XS WO Y/ ==) 7s) AS When thou I fear’d thy Yi Come not within his danger by thy will; They that thrive well,take counsell of their friends. didst name the boare, not to dissemble, fortune, and my joynts did tremble. [DST thou not marke my face? was it not white? V4a\ : 4 WA Ze 2s \ Sawest thou not signes of feare lurke insamine eye? DM Grew I not faint? and fell I not downe right? Wes en Within my bosome whereon thou doest lye, My boding heart, pants, beats, and takes no rest, But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my brest. OR where love raignes, disturbing jealousie \Z 5 Doth call him selfe affections centinell; rere Gives false alarmes, suggesteth mutinie, _REBOSY And ina peacefull houre doth crie, kill ! kill! Distemp’ring gentle love in his desire, As aire and water do abate the fire. ea*) AB a 4 HIS sower informer, this bate-breeding spie, es canker that eates up loves tender spring, This carry-tale, dissentious jealousie, ) That sometime true newes, sometime false doth bring, Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine eare, That if I love thee,I thy death should feare: 22 ND more then so, presenteth to mine eye tes +, The picture of an angrie-chating boare, Under whose sharpe fangs on his backe doth lye rae Y BO % An image like thy selfe, all stayn’d with goare; Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed, Doth make them droop with grief, and hang the hed. H let him keep his loathsome cabin still! OI ys 2 We 5") ae i HAT should I do, seeing thee so indeed, That tremble at th’imagination? The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, A 8 FT And feare doth teach it divination; I prophecie thy death, my living sorrow, If thou incounter with the boare to morrow. FUT if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul’d by me; y Uncouple at the timerous flying hare, Or at the foxe, which lives by subtiltie, Or at the roe, which no incounter dare: fearfull creatures o’re the downes, these Pursue And on thy wel breath’d horse keep with thy hounds. ©5597 124 ND when thou hast on foote the purblind hare, Noy BNL a RB) Y eeWG Marke the poore wretch to over-shut his troubles; How he outruns the wind, and with what care, He crankes and crosses with a thousand doubles; The many musits through the which he goes, Are like a laberinth to amaze his foes. OMETIME he runnes amonga flock of sheepe, aM) To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, ) And sometime where earth-delving conies keepe, & To stop the loud pursuers in their yell: And sometime sorteth with a heard of deare; Danger deviseth shifts, wit waites on feare. lh . 7 Ta Yo Les a 1 p3 OR there his smell with others being mingled, ‘ yy ZzOS The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, aS, iC OY W Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled 5 KEBOCS With much ado the cold fault cleanly out, Then do they spend their mouths, Eccho replies, As if another chase were in the skies, Fx Y this poore Wat, farre off upon a hill, |Z a4 Ay Stands on his hinder-legs with list’ning eare, hy) To hearken if his foes pursue him still; PR’ Anon their loud alarums he doth heare; And now his griefe may be compared well HEN shalt thou see the deaw-bedabbled wretch 4 Turne,and returne, indenting with the way Pes Ech envious brier his wearie legs do scratch, AZ. Ech shadow makes him stop,ech murmour stay, For miserie is troden on by manie, And being low, never releev’d by anie. YE quietly, and heare a litle more; Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise: < To make thee hate the hunting of the bore, Unlike my selfe, thou hear’st me moralize, Applying this to that, and so to so, For love can comment upon everie wo. ZN Ses HERE did I leave? no matter where (quoth he) AY Leave me, and then the storie aptly ends: The night is spent. Why what of that? (quoth she) Iam (quoth he) And now tis darke, and oa expected I shall fall of my In night (quoth she) desire sees best of all. 24 night I Ip perceive the reason: ke night OW of thisi darke BISA SANS Cee | | Cinthia, for shame, obscures her silver shine, ~<@ Till forging nature be condemn’d of treason, For stealing moulds from heaven, that were divine, S~c/8_§ Wherein she fram’d thee, in hie heavens despight, To shame the sunne by day, and her by night. To one sore sicke, that heares the passing bell. a F239 UT if thou fall, oh then imagine this, AJ The earth in love with thee, thy footing trips, And all is but to rob thee ofa kis, Rich prayes make true-men theeves: so do thy lips Make modest Dyan cloudie and forlorne, Lest she should steale a kisse and die forsworne. friend cee ND therefore hath she brib’d the destinies, SER To crosse the curious workmanship of nature, ey a Wey re ZA) To mingle beautie with infirmities, y BLJO_% And pure perfection with impure defeature; Making it subject to the tyrannie Of mad mischances, and much miserie. AS burning feavers, agues pale, and faint, CW ey Lifecpeyebitisis peiilenen! and frendzies wood, mM a i =4 ZA) The marrow-eating sickness whose attaint, Y WE N. Disorder breeds by heating of the blood: Surfets, impostumes, griefe, and damn’d dispaire, Sweare natures death, for framing thee so faire. PCS ND not the least of all these maladies, under: be} But in one minutes fight brings beautie ey at As oe Wh f Sg ZA) Ya BAO % . . Both favour, savour, hew, and qualities, Whereat th’impartiall gazer late did wonder, Are on the sudden wasted, thawed, and donne, As mountain snow melts with the midday sonne. 25 HEREFORE despight of fruitlesse chastitie 1 Love-lacking vestals, and selfe-loving nuns That on the earth would breed a scarcitie. ei = And barraine dearth of daughters and of sons; Be prodigall: the lampe that burnes by night Dries up his oyle, to lend the world his light. HAT is thy bodie but a swallowing grave , “4 Seeming to burie that posteritie Fe Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, 2% If thou destroy them not in dark bscuritie? If so, the world will hold on in disda ine, btw sd ae Sith in thy pride, so faire a hope is slaine. al Oin thy selfe thy selfe art made away; @ A mischiefe worse then civil l home-bred strife, Or theirs whose desperat h selves doslay, & Or butcher sire, that reave e s s es his ck sonne of life. Foule cank’ Ting rust, the hidden But gold th treasure frets, at's put to use, more gold begets, AY then, (quoth Adon) you will fall againe, Into your idle over-handled theame; 2) The kisse I gave you is bestow’d in vain e, § And all in vain ain€ e you strivi e against i the stre ame; For by this black-fac’t night, desi =~ res foule nourse, Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse KF love have lent you twentie thousand tongues, KEN VE Eoy o And o . ever ie tongue g m ore moving then your owne, i a ey a itching like the wanton marmai ds songs, 4 Yet from mine eare the tem pting tune is blowne; For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear e, And will not] et a fals e sound enter there; 26 s§ Into the quiet closure of my brest; A) And then my litle heart were quite undone, No, ladie no! my heart longs not to grone, But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. HAT have you urg’d that I can not reprove? 4 The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger; 4 I hate not love, but your devise in love, You do it for increase; O straunge excuse! When reason is the bawd to lusts abuse. <7] A LL it not love, for love to heaven is fled, qc eS = sh Since sweating lust on earth usurpt his name, Under whose simple semblance he hath fed QS AMAG Upon fresh beautie, blotting it with blame; Which the hot tyrant staines, and soone bereaves As caterpillers do the tender leaves. PYAFYQOVE comforteth, like sun-shine after raine, But lusts effect is tempest after sunne, J Loves gentle spring doth alwayes fresh remaine, ) Lusts winter comes, ere sommer halfe be donne. d Love surfets not; lust like a glutton dies: Love is all truth; lust full of forged lies. ORE I could tell, but more I dare not say; 14 The text is old, the orator too greene. S4, Therefore in sadnesse, now, I will away; E4 My face is full of shame, my heart of teene; Mine eares that to your wanton talke attended, Do burne them selves for having so offended. 4 AZ ITH this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace ER song was tedious, and out-wore the night, _) For lovers houres are long, though seeming short; If pleas’d themselves, others they thinke delight In such like circumstance, with such like sport: A Of those faire armes which bound him to her brest, Ges And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace; &Z% Leaves love upon her backe, deeply distrest. Looke how a bright star shooteth from the skye, So glides he in the night from Venus eye; lq, Gazing upon a late embarked friend, tx Till the wilde waves will have him seene no more, Whose ridges with the meeting cloudes contend: So did the mercilesse, and pitchie night, Fold in the object that did feed her sight. AS HEREAT amas’d as one that unaware mg Hath dropt a Precious jewell in the flood, FOR Or stonisht, as night wandrers often are, KZ® Their light blowne out in some mistrustfull wood; Even so confounded in the darke she lay, Having lost the faire discover ie o f her way. yo ND now she beates he heart, whereat vary es Mey Tha i t all the nei ghbour : Caves, as seemingit grones, troubled, oo) ake verba Vz a.ON ll repetition of her mones, Passi assion on Passion, i deeply isi redoubled; y me, she cries, and twentie times, wo, wo! And twentie ecchoes twentie times crie so. Their copious stories, oftentimes begunne, End without audience, and are never donne. ) gy) IZ, ee eS yo RB) She sayes tis so, they answer all, tis so; And would say after her, if she said, no. ) How love makes yong-men thra ll, and old men dote; ow love 18 wise in follie, foo lish wittie: ntheme stil] concludes in wo, And still the quier of ecchoes answers so, 28 PWAASZRO! here the a “ar gentle larke, wearie of rest, From his wet cabinet mounts up on hie, Teas ‘D And wakes the morning, from whose silver brest “ The sunne ariseth in his majestie, Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That ceader-tops and hils seeme burnisht gold. a 650) BENUS salutes him with this faire good morrow: cw pS O thou cleare god, and patron of all light, f rhs §) From whom ech lamp and shining star doth borrow {VATS The beautious influence that makes him bright, There lives a sonne that suckt an earthly mother, May lend thee light, as thou doest lend to other. le) pe marking them, begins a wailing note, a oo sings extemporally a wofull dittie, ¥ OR who hath she to spend the night withall, But idle sounds resembling parasits? Like shrill-tongu’d tapsters answering everie call, Soothing the humor of fantastique wits; HIS sayd, she hasteth to a mirtle grove, Musing the morning is so much ore-worne, And yet she heares no tidings of her love; aN She harkens for his hounds, and for his horne: Anon she heares them chaunt it lustily, And all in hast she coasteth to the cry. 29 HOSE frothie mouth bepainted all with red, WS ND as she runnes, the bushes in the way, tes be Some catch her by the necke, some kisse her face, 4 Like milke and blood, being mingled both togither, Some twin’d about her thigh to make her stay; ree A second feare through all her sinewes spred, Y BON she wildly breaketh from their strict imbrace, Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ake, Hasting to feed her fawne, hid in some brake. } 47 Which madly hurries her she knowes not whither; . ee F309Y this she heares the hounds are at a bay, y Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder py.) Wreath’d up in fatall folds, just in his way, PY’ The feare whereof doth make him shake & shudder; Even so the timerous yelping of the hounds, Appals her senses, and her spirit confounds. : yy) OR now she knowes it is no gentle chase, But the blunt boare, rough } Because the crie remaineth 2 Where fearefully the dogs Finding their enemie to be so curst, They all straine curt’sie who shall cope rH es 3 beare, or lyon proud, in one place, exclaime aloud: him first. This way she runs, and now she will no further, But backe retires, to rate the boare for murther. BWHCS THOUSAND spleenes beare her a thousand wayes; (CF ; \ed She treads the path that she untreads againe; ) ZA) Full of respects, yet naught at all respecting, In hand with all things, naught at all effecting. Bae ERE kennel’d in a brake, she finds a hound, Pay, | And askes the wearie caitiffe for his maister; ra L)\¢ Who, overcome by doubt and bloodlesse feare, eG) ) With cold-pale weakenesse nums ech feeling part: Like soldiers when their captain once doth yeeld, They basely flie, and dare not stay the field. HUS stands she ina trembling extasie; Till, cheering up her senses all dismay’d, She tels them, tis a causelesse fantasie, a And childish error that they are affray’d, Bids them leave quaking, bids them feare no more; And with that word she spide the hunted boare. 30 And there another licking of his wound, VBS | Gainst venim’d sores the onely soveraigne plaister. And here she meets another, sadly skowling, To whom she speaks; and he replies with howling. B® 2 HEN OD Th: dismall crie rings sadly in her eare, ye Through which it enters to surprise her hart, cm. Her more then hast is mated with delayes, BO.© Like the proceedings ofa drunken braine; he hath ceast his ill resounding noise, 2A Another flapmouth’d mourner, blacke and grim, Fx Against the welkin volies out his voyce, = Z® Another, and another, answer him, Clapping their proud tailes to the ground below, Shaking their scratcht-eares, bleeding as they go. Zam At apparitions, signes, and prodigies, Sap) Whereon with feareful eyes, they long have gazed, ik——€8 Infusing them with dreadfull prophecies; So she at these sad signes, draws up her breath, And sighing it againe, exclaimes on death. ARD favour’d tyrant, ougly, meagre, leane, \ Hatefull divorce of love, (thus chides she death) Grim-grinning ghost,earths-worme,what dost thou meane To stifle beautie, and to steale his breath, liv’d, his breath and beautie set he Who when Glosse on the rose, smell to the violet? » HOW her eyes, and teares, did lend, and borrow! 7.8 Her eye seene in the teares, teares in her eye; Ws. s : MY x72 Both christals,where they viewd ech otherssorrow, Be SWA Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still to drye; But like a stormie day, now wind, now raine, Sighs drie her cheeks, tears make them wet againe. ¥9 AARIABLE passions throng her constant wo, 7a As striving who should best become her griefe; SF he be dead,—Oh no, it cannot be, Seeing his beautie, thou shouldst strike at it, — Oh yes,it may; thou hast no eyes to see, But hatefully at randon doest thou hit. Thy marke is feeble age; but thy false dart, Mistakes that aime, and cleaves an infants hart. Ss Like many clouds consulting for foule weather. FIV this, farre off she heares some huntsman hallow; Ss@cem ? ADST thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, (ats | And hearing him, thy power had lost his ve aS y BLS The destinies will curse thee for this stroke; They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluckst a flower: (Aw) All entertain’d, ech passion labours so, \ ZS That everie present sorrow seemeth chiefe, But none is best; then joyne they all together, k/) A nourses : song nere eg pleas’d her babe so well: = : The dyre imagination she did follow, This sound of hope doth labour to expell: Loves golden arrow at him should have fled, For now reviving joy bids her rejoyce, And not deaths ebon dart, to strike him dead. And flatters her it is Adonis voyce. WY) Kg HEREAT her teares began to turne their tide, OST thoudrink tears,that thou provok’st such weeping? at may a heavie grone advantage thee? Why hast thou cast into eternall sleeping Y Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? Now Nature cares not for thy mortall vigour, A Being prison’d in her eyes like pearles in glasse, WS Since her best worke is ruin’d with thy rigour. PaaS But through the floud-gates breaks the silver rain, And with his strong course opens them againe. Which her cheeke melts,as scorning it should passe To wash the foule face of the sluttish ground, Who is but dronken when she seemeth drown’d. HARD beleeving love how strange it seemes! | ERE overcome as one full of dispaire, Za Vfe.W She vail’d her eye-lids, who, like sluces, stopt eS Fan) The christall tide that from her two cheeks faire, eS In the sweet channell of her bosome dropt; 32 = Yet sometimes fals an orient drop beside, : 3\ Not to beleeve, and yet too credulous: =) Thy weale and wo are both of them extreames, S) Despaire and hope make thee ridiculous: The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, In une thoughts the other kils thee quickly. (e2 OW she unweaves the webthat she hath wrought; 1 Adonis lives, and death is not to blame: @) It was not she that cal’d him all to nought; @ © Now she ads honours to his hatefull name; She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings, Imperious supreme of all mortall things. fez O,no, quoth she, sweet Death,I did but jest; | Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of feare <2 When as I met the boare, that bloodie beast, Which knowes no pitie, but is still severe; Then gentle shadow, (truth I must confesse) I rayl’d on thee, fearing my loves decesse. IS not my fault: the bore provok’t my tong, Be wreak’t on him (invisible commaunder) * T’is he foule creature, that hath done thee wrong, y) I did but act, he’s author of thy slaunder: h two tongues, and never woman yet, Could rule them both, without ten womens wit. HUS, hoping that Adonis is alive, Her rash suspect she doth extenuate; i And that his beautie may the better thrive, With death she humbly doth insinuate; Tels him of trophies, statues, tombes; and stories His victories, his triumphs, and his glories. Ons ANG a \ re JOVE, quoth she, how much a foole was I, To be of such a weake and sillie mind, To waile his death, who lives, and must not die, ae. Till mutuall overthrow of mortall kind! For he bein g dead, with him is beautie slaine, And beautie dead, blacke chaos comes againe. 34 Y, fy, fond love, thou art as full of feare As one with treasure laden, hem’d with theeves; y Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or eare, Thy coward heart with false bethinking greeves. Even at this word she heares a merry horne, ¢4 Whereat she leaps, that was but late forlorne. SepyCeas faulcons to the lure, away she flies; Vo ; e (SY rpful ek The grasse stoops not, she treads on it5 so light; > i And in her hast unfortunately spies Y G4Q % The foule boares conquest, on her faire delight; Lay Which seene, her eyes, as murdred with the view, Like stars asham’d of day, themselves withdrew. SSB R as the snaile, whose tender hornes being hit, \ ORD Shrinks backward in his shellie cave with paine, pel==) And there, all smoothred up, in shade doth sit, z Long after fearing to creepe forth againe: odie view, her eyes are fled Into the deepe-darke cabbins of her head. AS iv HERE WEA ee 4" they resigne their office and their light To the disposing of her troubled braine: Who bids them still consort with ougly night, RZ And never wound the heart with lookes againe; Who, like a king perplexed in his throne, By their suggestion, gives a deadly grone, Awa HEREAT ech tributarie subject quakes; As when the wind, imprison’d in the ground, "2 Struggling for passage, earths foundation shakes, &Z4 Which with cold terror, doth mens minds confound: This mutinie ech part doth so surprise, That from their dark beds once more leap her eies; d2 35 9 ONNET, nor vaile henceforth no creature weare! CI HVA_€4 ND being open’d, threw unwilling light iY Wo Upon the wide wound that the boare had trencht ye Zs In his soft flanke; whose wonted lillie white Py 7 BEN With purple tears, that his wound wept, had drencht: No floure was nigh, no grasse, hearb, leaf, or weed, But stole his blood, and seem’d with him to bleed. HIS solemne sympathie poore Venus noteth; Over one shoulder doth she hang her head; = Thesun doth skorne you,& the wind doth hisse you: But when Adonis liv’de, sunne, and sharpe aire Lurkt like two theeves, to rob him of his faire: ey Hy ou ey WS EY 4, Dumblie she passions, frantikely she doteth; 7 BG She thinkes he could not die, he is not dead. And then she reprehends her mangling eye, . SS That makes more gashes where no breach shuld be: His face seems twain, ech severall lim is doubled; For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. ws y_[Y tongue cannot expresse my griefe for one, CA, And yet (quoth she) behold two Adons dead! ES Mi away, my salt teares gone, ine eyes are turn’d> to fire,eee my heart to lead: Heavie hearts lead, melt at mine eyes red fire! So shall I die by drops of hot desire. PKG (C4 oe LAS, poore world, what treasure hast thou lost! What face remains alive that’s worth the viewing? a le Whose nS Of things long since, or any thing insuing? tongue is musick now? what canst thou boast The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh, and trim; But true sweet beautie liv’d and di’de with him. 36 Play with his locks; then would Adonis weepe: O see his face, the lion walkt along PON his hurt she lookes so stedfastly, [PABa GSAZ My Vly sighes sighes areare bl bDlowne a The wind would blow it off, and being gon, They both would strive who first should drie his teares. Behind some hedge, because he wouldnot fear him: yY That her sight dazling makes the wound seem three; [_ ND therefore would he put his bonnet on, Under whose brim the gaudie sunne would peepe; And straight, in pittie of his tender yeares, Her voice is stopt, her joynts forget to bow; Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now. eS eh ) Nor sunne, nor wind will ever strive to kisse you: Having no faire to lose, you need not feare; iG K@S) * To recreate himself when he hath song, The tygre would be tame, and gently heare him: If he had spoke, the wolfe would leave his praie, And never fright the sillie lambe that daie. ASRS HEN he beheld his shadow in the brooke, (rv Ww x The fishes spread on it their golden gils; Reg When he was by, the birds such pleasure tooke, That some would sing, some other in their bils Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries; He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. UT this foule, grim, and urchin-snowted boare, ) Whose downeward eye still looketh for a grave: Ne’re saw the beautious liverie that he wore: Witnesse the intertainment that he gave; If he did see his face, why then I know, He thought to kisse him, and hath kil’d him so. ate IS true, tis true; thus was Adonis slaine; y He ran upon the boare with his sharpe speare, L)\§ Who did not whet his teeth at him againe, Gy) Cr UY if ) But by a kisse thought to persuade him there; A And nousling in his flanke, the loving swine Sheath’d, unaware, the tuske in his soft groine. == <> eM | NAS AD I bin tooth’d like him, I must confesse, With kissing him I should have kild him first; But he is dead, and never did he blesse SieiS Se My youth with his;the more am I accurst. With this she falleth in the place she stood, And staines her face with his cong ealed bloud. Ls EST shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud; EE WAN alo poi EY A) re lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darknesse lies, WO glasses where her selfe her selfe beheld A thousand times, and now no more reflect; ¢ Their vertue lost, wherein they late excel’d, paar Sit beauty rob’d of ime, (quoth she) this is my his effect: spj ht, That thou being dead, the day shul d st belight. Z@) INCE thou art dead, lo! here I prophecie, Sorrow on love hereaf ter y It shall be wayted on wit shall attend; wil Find sweet beginning, buth jealousie, unsavorie end; Nere setled equally, but That all loves Pleasure high or lo; shall not match his wo. 38 With sweets, that shall the truest sight beguile: The strongest bodie shall it make most weake, Strike the wise dumbe, and teach the foole to speake. EE ERAT shall be sparing, and too full of ryot, sk Jeb Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; 2a & yy The staring ruffian shall it keepe in quiet, y) Pluck down the rich, inrich the poore with treasures: It shall be raging mad, and sillie milde, Make the yoong old, the old become a childe. V@l HE lookes upon his lips, and they are pale; fala? She takes him by the hand , and that is cold; ) She whispers in his eares a heavie tale, C As if they heard the wofull words she told: She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, Whe Bud and be blasted in a breathing while; The bottome poyson, and the top ore-strawd 4 T shall suspect where is no cause of feare ; It shall not feare where it should most mistrust; It shall be mercifull, and too seveare, y: And most deceiving, when it seemes most just; Perverse it shall be, where it showes most toward, Put feare to valour, courage to the coward. ¥4T shall be cause of warre, and dire events, a gag And set dissention twixt the sonne, and sire; pa Subject, and servill to all discontents, : wy) As drie combustious matter is to fire; Sith in his prime, death doth my love destroy, They that love best, their loves shall not enjoy. BY this, the boy that by her side laie kil’d, “[@e kJ ) Was melted like a vapour from her sight, a i \ )} And in his blood that on the ground laie spil’d, 2D A purple floure sproong up, checkred with white, Resembling well his pale cheekes, and the blood, Which in round drops, upon their whitenesse stood. a (ze, HE bowes her head, the new-sprong floure to smel, Comparing it to her Adonis breath; y And saies, within her bosome it shall dwell, Since he himselfe is reft from her by death: She crops the stalke, and in the breach appeares Green-dropping sap, which she compares to teares, )we TdT (vas aC OORE floure (quoth she) this was thy fathers guise, Sweet issue of a more sweet smelling sire, For everie little griefe to wet his eies: U7) To grow unto himselfe was his desire, And so tis thine; but know, it is as good To wither in my brest, as in his blood. ys ae nDa Ze) ERE was thy fathers bed, here in my brest; Thou art the next of blood, and tis thy right: Fa Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, y ES My throbbing hart shall rock thee day and night: There shall not be one minute in an houre Wherein I wil not kisse my sweet loves floure. (a | HUS, weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aide = = AS) ¢ Their mistresse, mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot, quickly is convaide, Holding their course to Paphos, wher e their queen Meanes to immure her selfe, and not be seen. AAAI etn > Ores te ) HE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; (4 wherof this pamphlet, without beginning, is butasuperfluous moity. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutor’d lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is 9 yours, what I have to doe is yours, being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duety would shew greater; meane time, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship; 'To whom I wish long life still lengthned with all happinesse. Your Lordships in all duety, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. tN ame Ossi %UCIUS TARQUINIUS (for his excessive pridesurnamed Superbus)after hee had caused his owne father wy) : inlaw,ServiusTullius,to be cruelly murd’red,&,contrarie tothe Romaine lawesand customes, not requir- fy ing or staying for the peoples suffrages, had possessed \ himselfeof the kingdome: went, accompanyed with his sonnes & other noblemen of Rome,to besiege Ardea. Durin g which siege, the principall men of the army meeting oneevening at the tent of MEL@) a ROM the besieged Ardea all in post, rH Borne by the trustlesse wings of false desire, SVP L 4 Lust-breathed Tarquin, leaves the Roman host, SREB And to Colatium beares the lightlesse fire Which, in pale embers hid, lurkes to aspire, And girdle with embracing flames, the wast Of Colatines fair love, Lucrece the chast. SextusTarquinius, the kingssonne, in their discourses after supper, every one commended the vertues of his owne wife: among whom Colatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. In that pleasant humor they all posted to Rome; and intending by theyr secret and sodaine arrivall to make triall of that which every one had before a- vouched, onely Colatinus finds his wife (though it were latein the night) spinning amongest her maides; the other ladies were all found dauncing & revelling, or in severall disports: whereupon the noble men yeelded Colatinus the victory, and his wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius being enflamed with Lucrece beauty, yet smootherin g his pas- sions for the present, departed with the rest backe to the campe: from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himselfe, and was (according to his estate) royally entertayned & lodged by Lucrece at Colatium.The same night he tretcherouslie stealeth into her chamber,violently ravisht her, and early in the morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this lament- able plight, hastily dispatcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, another to the campe for Colatine. They came, the one accompanyed with Junius Brutus,the other with PubliusValerius: & pa ee | AP'LY that name of chast, unhap’ly set (af ) This batelesse edge on his keene appetite: ZY y & When Colatine unwisely did not let To praise the cleare unmatched red and white Which triumpht in that skie of his delight, Where mortal stars, as bright as heavens beauties, With pure aspects did him peculiar dueties. OR he the night before, in Tarquins tent, £44 Unlockt the treasure of his happie state: W679 What priselesse wealth the heavens had him lent, EBX In the possession of his beauteous mate. Reck’ning his fortune at such high proud rate, That kings might be espowsed to more fame, But king nor peere to such a peerelesse dame. finding Lucrece attired in mourning habite, demanded the cause of her sorrow. Shee, first taking an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole maner of his dealing, and withall sodainely stabbed her selfe. Which done, with one consent they all vowed to roote out the whole hated family of the Tarquins: & bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the doer & manner of the vile deede: with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the people were so moved, that with one consent and a general acclamation the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state government changed from kings to consuls, RB HAPPINESSE enjoy’d but ofa few! \ And if possest as soone decayed and done 7%} Against the golden splendour of the sunne. An expir’d date cancel’d ere well begunne. Honour and beautie, in the owners armes, Are weakelie fortrest from a world of harmes. YUT Beautie in that white entituled, AE EAUTIE it selfe doth of it selfe perswade Se A} The eies of men without an orator; f x Ye. 1 See To set forth that which is so singuler? Or why is Colatine the publisher Of that rich jewell he should keepe unknown From theevish eares, because it is his owne? 0 Wek HERCHANCE le on ) From Venus doves doth challenge that faire field, What needeth then apologies be made his bost of Lucrece sov’raigntie Suggested this proud issue of a king: SN For by our eares our hearts oft taynted be: XSI Perchance that envie of so rich a thing, Braving compare, disdainefully did sting His high-picht thoughts that meaner men should vant That golden hap which their superiors want. Then Vertue claimes from Beautie, Beauties red, Which Vertue gave the golden age, to guild Their silver cheekes, and cal’d it then their shield, Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, When Shame assail’d, the red should fence the white. HIS herauldry in Lucrece face was seene, Argued by Beauties red and Vertues white, ¢ Of eithers colour was the other queene, eae S@S) Proving from worlds minority their right: Yet their ambition makes them still to fight; The soveraignty of either being so great, That oft they interchange ech others seat. HIS silent warre of lillies and of roses, 34 UT some untimelie thought did instigate foam 4a) @ Faw.) Cae To quench O rash false His all too timelesse speede, if none of those: His honor, his affaires, his friends, his state, Neglected all, with swift intent he goes the coale which in his liver glowes. heate, wrapt in repentant cold, Which ; In their \ Where The coward captive, Thy hastie spring still blasts and nere growes old. To those two armies that would let him goe, Rather then triumph in so false a foe. ‘a HEN at Colatia this false lord arrived, BUSY ST AN Well was he welcom’d by the Romaine dame, Wee Within whose face Beautie and Vertue strived, 6") 24 Which of them both should underprop her fame: When Vertue brag’d, Beautie wold blush for shame, When Beautie bosted blushes, in despight — 4 would staine that ore with silver white. OW Tarquin vew’d in her faire faces field, pure rankes his traytor eye encloses, least betweene them both it should be kil’d, vanquished, doth yeeld thinkes he that her husbands shallow tongue, ed | The niggard prodigall that praisde her so, = p—~eL_§ In that high taske hath done her beauty wrong, Which farre exceedes his barren skill to show: Therefore that praise which Colatine doth owe, Inchaunted Tarquin aunswers with surmise, In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. HIS earthly sainct adored by this devill, Little suspecteth the false worshipper: “For unstain’d thoughts do seldom dream on evill; “ Birds never lim’d, no secret bushes feare: 9 @) So guiltlesse shee securely gives good cheare ¥.No clowdie show of stormie blustring wether, 4 Uppon the world dim darknesse doth displaie, And in her vaultie prison stowes the daie. OR that he colour’d with his high estate, F444 Hiding base sin in pleats of majestie: Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, SBS With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night: Now leaden slumber with lives strength doth fight, Which, having all, all could not satisfie; But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, That cloy’d with much, he pineth still for more. Asi wy OR then is Tarquine brought unto his bed, Sd) Intending wearinesse with heavie sprite: ay, FY : FEC For after supper long he questioned ie 6249 Chat nothing in him seem’d inordinate, : Doth yet in his faire welkin once appeare; Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Feare, And reverend welcome to her princely guest, Whose inward ill no outward harme exprest: @ AR from the purpose of his comming thither, #34\'He makes excuses for his being there. And everie one to rest themselves betake, Save theeves, and cares, and troubled minds that wake. UT she that never copt with straunger eies, foam ca) Could picke no meaning from their parling lookes, @ Jaw.) Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies E> WA-495S one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving as The sundrie dangers of his wils obtaining: 4 (225) Y et ever to obtaine his will resolving, =! Writ in the glassie margents of such bookes, Shee toucht no unknown baits, nor fear’d no hooks; Dispaire to gaine, doth traffique oft for gaining; More then his eies were open’d to the light. Though death be adjunct, ther’s no death supposed. VUEN Nor could shee moralize his wanton sight, ys And when great treasure is the meede proposed, ce | E stories to her eares her husbands fame, LE ae ae at *x Though weake-built hopes perswade him to abstaining; ° J) HOSE that much covet, are with gaine so fond, That what they have not, that which they possesse, Wonne in the fields of fruitfull Italie: %) ) And decks with praises Colatines high name &es | Made glorious by his manlie Mipela es With bruised armes and wreathes of victorie; Her joie with heaved-up hand she doth express e, And, wordlesse, so greetes heaven for his success e. 48 ? y They scatter and unloose it from their bond, GN And so,by hoping more, they have but lesse; Or gaining more, the profite of excesse Is but to surfet, and such griefes sustaine, That they prove banckrout in this poore rich gain. e HE ayme of all is but to nourse the life With honor, wealth, and ease in wainyng age: ¥ And in this ayme there is such thwarting strife, That one for all, or all for one we gage: As life for honour, in fell battailes rage; Honor for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost The death of all, and altogether lost. O that in ventring ill, we leave to be Zz? The things we are, for that which we expect; ) And this ambitious foule infirmitie, & In having much, torments us with defect Of that we have: so then we doe neglect The thing we have, and all for want of wit, Make something nothing, by augmenting it. UCH hazard now must dotin g Tarquin make, @z~ Pawning his honor to obtaine his lust; C And for himselfe, himselfe he must forsake: Then where is truth, if there be no selfe-trust? When shall he thinke to find a stranger just, When he himeelfe, himselfe confounds, betraies, To sclandrous tongues, and wretched hateful daies? s-4 OW stole uppon the time the dead of night, 4 | When heavie sleep had clos’d up mortall eyes; +34) No comfortable starre did lend his light, ~~e/@_§ No noise but owles and wolves death-boding cries; Now serves the season that they may surprise The sillie lambes; pure thoughts are dead and still, While Lust and Murder wakes to staine and kill. 50 R44 ND now this lustfull Lord leapt from his bed, iN we = J Throwing his mantle rudely ore his arme ’ CFARA O by aN ) Is madly tost betweene desire and dred; Y BO % Th’one sweetely flatters, th’other feareth harme; But honest Feare, bewicht with Lustes foule charme, Doth too too oft betake him to retire, Beaten away by brainesicke rude Desire. =a EE we IS faulchon on a flint he softly smiteth, (aes, | That from the could stone sparkes of fire doe flie, BN a) Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, g wwe NaS Which must be lodestarre to his lustfull eye; And to the flame thus speaks advisedlie: As from this cold flint I enforst this fire, So Lucrece must I force to my desire. Pare | mY ERE pale with feare he doth penedets The daungers of his lothsome enterprise: BAN ASR) And in his inward mind he doth debate VES | What following sorrow may on this arise; Then looking scornfully, he doth despise His naked armour of still-slaughtered lust, And justly thus controlls his thoughts unjust. A we \7<S @) AIRE torch, burne out thy light, and lend it not To darken her whose light excelleth thine: A SN 79 And die unhallowed thoughts, before you blot J RORXS With your uncleannesse, that which is devine: Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine: Let faire humanitie abhor the deede That spots and stains loves modest snow-white weed. €2 St % SHAME 2 WHAT excuse can my invention make to knighthood, and to shining armes! S\ When thou shalt charge me with so blacke a deed? 8 O foule dishonor to my houshoulds grave! Wil not my tongue be mute, my fraile joints shake? | Mine eies forgo their light, my false hart bleede? 7 ) O impious act including all foule harmes! 4 A martiall man to be soft fancies slave; True valour still a true respect should have; Then my digression is so vile, so base, That it will live engraven in my face. Ra SVR ORS (Caewr7 though I die, the scandale will survive, And be an eie-sore in my golden coate: Some lothsome dash the herrald will contrive Se&9 To cipher me how fondlie I did dote: us The guilt beeing great, the feare doth still exceede; And extreme feare can neither fight nor flie, But, cowardlike, with trembling terror die. as AD Colatinus kil’d my sonne or sire, ERSJ (me Ly B | Or laine in ambush to betray my life, ae ZA\IK\ KS Or were he not my deare friend, this desire VES | Might have excuse to worke uppon his wife: That my posteritie, sham’d with the note, As in revenge or quittall of such Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sinne To wish that I their father had not beene. The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end. Ee HAT win Lif I gaine the thing I seeke? a A dreame, a breath,a froth of fleeting joy. ®% Who buies a minutes mirth, to waile a weeke? Or sels eternitie to getatoy? one sweete grape, who will the vine destroy? t what fond begger, but to touch the crowne Would with the scepter straight be stroken down? HAMEFULL itis: I, if the fact be knowne, L W VWatefull it is: there is no hate in loving: W Ile beg her love: but she is not her owne: The worst is but deniall and reprooving: My will is strong, past reasons weake remooving. Who feares a sentence or an old mans saw, Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe. HUS gracelesse, holds he disputation 1F Colatinus dreame of my intent, ee ort ot wake, and in a desp’rate rage | an ither, this vile purpose to prevent? is siege that hath ingirt his marriage, is blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage This dying vertue, this surviving shame Mees crime will beare an ever-during blame? strife: But as he is my kinsman, my deare friend, *Tweene frozen conscience and hot burning will, Lyf And with good thoughts makes dispensation, ) Urging the worser sence for vantage still; Which in a moment doth confound and kill All pure effects, and doth so farre proceede, That what is vile, shewes like a vertuous deede. lrOy UOTH he: Shee tooke me kindlie by the hand, « Qed thay ¥ And gaz’d for tidings in my eager eyes, Ng & Fearing some hard newes from the warlike band Se<+) Where her beloved Colatinus lies, O how her feare did make her colour rise! First red as roses that on lawne we laie, Then white as lawne, the roses tooke awaie. <d \VA£4N D how her hand, in my hand bein lockt, yk we Forst it to tremble ecies loyall ieee Z=) Which strooke her sad, and then it faster rockt, Untill her husbands welfare shee did heare; Whereat shee smiled with so sweete a cheare, That had Narcissus seene her as shee stood, Selfe-love had never drown’d him in the flood. a A wh ah ye HY hunt I then for colour or excuses? A, All orators are dumbe when Beautie pleadeth; Poore wretches have remorse in poore abuse s; Love thrives not in the hart that shadows dreadeth: Affection is my captaine and he leadeth: And when his gaudie banner is disp laide, The coward fights, and will not be dismaide. ES NVA_ZA jj S corne ore-growne by weedes, so heed full feare ey K WF Is almost choakt by unresisted lust. YB) ‘a.Sa GN SENS) Sad pause and deepe regard beseemes the sage, My part is youth and beates these from the stage: Desire my pilot is, Beautie my prise ; Then who feares sinking where such treasure lies? 54 Full of foule hope, and full of fond mistrust: Both which, as servitors to the unj ust, So crosse him with their opposit perswasion, That now he vowes a league, and now invasion. Sa SS A ITHIN his thought her heavenly image sits, A eg 42D Unto a view AY / And inthe selfe That eye which That eye which so false will not same seat sitsColatine: lookes on her, confounds his wits; him beholdes, as more devine, incline; But with a pure appeale seekes to the heart, Which, once CV corrupted, takes the worser part; i rtens up his servile powers, a) i WO eticirmmenn shui icieiaer eae ad show, Stuffe up his lust, as minutes fill up howres: No VA grow, ve, ON Andas their captaine, so their pride doth owe. they then tribute slavish more Paying By reprobate desire thus madly led, The Romane lord marcheth to Lucrece bed. HEN childish Feare avaunt! debating die! Respect and Reason waite on wrinckled age: ¢ My heart shall never countermand mine eie; Away he steales with open listning eare, ZEA\ WD wi “AZ will, rim HE lockes betweene her chamber and his ward: his Ech one, by him inforst, retires x \_)\¢ But, as they open, they all rate his ill, . Which drives the creeping theefe to some regard; eo@e @S) The threshold grates the doore to have him heard; Night wand’ring weezels shreek to see him there; They fright him, yet he still pursues his feare. Se YCEAS Ney M = PSS cach unwilling portall 7 Through tee yeelds him way, bdischies ofthe place ZA) The wind warres with his torch to make him staie, © And blowes the smoake of it into his face, Extinguishing his conduct in this case; But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch, Puffes forth another wind that fires the torch: Key aN Wea OW is he come unto the chamber dore } That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, : § Which with a yeelding latch, and with no more, Ne Z@_§ Hath bar’d him from the blessed thing he sought. So from himselfe impiety hath wrought, That for his pray, to pray he doth begin, Asif the heavens should countenance his sin. C44 ND being lighted, by the light he spies Lucrecias seen re odsilie sticks; 4 ZA) He takes it from the rushes where y SG And gtiping it, the needle his fingerit lies; pricks: As who should say: This glove to wanton trickes Is not inur’d; returne againe in hast; Thou seest our mistresse ornament s are chast. ¥ 9 UT all these 2 #9 UT in the midst of his unfruitfull prayer, ae Jy Having solicited th’eternall power, fiy) )-awD How can they then assist me in the act? HEN gy.) The dores, the wind, the glove that did delay him, He takes ho wre his debt. O so, quoth he, these deflowre; The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact, poore forbiddings could not stay him; witha lingring staie his co urse doth let, Till everie minute payes the And they would stand auspicious to the howre. Even there he starts: quoth he,I must » Hein thew orst sence consters their deniall: for accidentall thin gs of trial l; Oras those bars which stop the h ourely diall, Who That his foule thoughts might compasse his fair faire, Love and Fortune bein il is Gods, my guide! backt with resolution: Against loves fire, feares frost hath dissolution. The eye of heaven is out, and mistie night Covers the shame that followes sweet delight. HIS said, his guiltie hand pluckt up the latch, lets attend the time, #4 Like little frosts that someti me threat the spring, Toad 4 More rejoysing to the prime, ~ LB And 8ive the sneaped birds more cause to sing. ain payes the income of Who sees the lurking serpent, steppes aside; The marchant . €ares, Tong pirats, shelves and sands, : ere rich at home he lan ds. But shee, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, Lies at the mercie of his mortall sting. uge rocks, 5 ech Precious thing; high winds,st : ; ee 2a but dreames till their effects be tried, Y) The blackest sinne is clear’d with absolution; And with his knee the dore he opens wide: eo KMS) ; The dove sleeps fast that this night-owle will catch: Thus treason workes ere traitors be espied. . ITHOUT the bed her other faire hand was, A On the greene coverlet; whose perfect white s Showed like an Aprill dazie on the grasse, WA Rowling his greedie eye-bals in his head: By their high treason in his heart misled, Which gives the watch-word to his hand ful soon, To draw the clowd that hides the silver moon. OOKE, as the faire and fierie pointed sunne, we Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight: ——W H Even so, the curtaine drawne, his eyes begun To winke, being blinded with a greater light: Whether it is, that shee reflects so bright, That dazleth them, or else some shame supposed ; But blind they are, and keep themselves inclosed . CEA HAD they in that darksome prison died, { Reve Then had they seene the period of their ill: Ket’ } Then Colatine againe by Lucrece side, 2G, In his cleare bed might have reposed still: ZA With pearlie swet, resembling dew of night. Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath’d their light, And, canopied in darkenesse, sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorne the day. Seer / ule (ER haire, like golden threeds, play’d with her breath; sO modest wantons! wanton modestie! S Showing lifes triumph in the map of death, SS | And deaths dim looke in lifes mortalitie: Ech in her sleepe themselves so beautifie, As if betweene them twaine there were no strife, But that life liv’d in death, and death in life. Sacem (ER breasts like ivory globes circled with blew, h A paire of maiden worlds unconquered, / ul Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew, ras But they must ope this blessed league to kill, VES | And him by oath they truely honored. These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred; Must sell her joy, her life, her worlds deli ght. From this faire throne to heave the owner out. And holie-thoughted Lucrece to their sj ht, ER lillie hand, her rosie cheeke lies under, 1 .) Coos’ning the pillow ofa lawfull kisse ; Who therefore angrie, seemes to part in sunder , Swellin g on either side to want his bliss e; Betweene whose hils her head intombed is: Where, like a vertuous monument, shee lies To be admir’d of lewd unhallowe d eyes. 58 Who, like a fowle usurper, went about SS wes l 4 Y Wy SSAA) HAT could he see, but mightily he noted? What did he note, but strongly he desired? What he beheld, on that he firmely doted, And in his will his wilfull eye he tyred. With more than admiration he admired Her azure vaines, her alablaster skinne, Her corall lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. Cl HWA445 the grim lion fawneth ore his pray, iY MK We = VA 7 ZA POS Sharpe hunger by Pp ‘a tg FS MAGINE the conquest satisfied: . So ore this sleeping soule doth Tarquin stay, His rage of lust by gazing qualified; wan Pe INS y UW her, as one in dead ofnight (A Whose grim aspéct sets everie joint a shaking; Slakt, not supprest; for standing by her side, What terror tis! but shee in worser taking, His eye, which From sleepe disturbed, heedfullie doth view The sight which makes supposed terror trew. late this mutiny restraines, Unto a greater uprore tempts his vaines: SEPAND they, like stragling slaves for pillage fighting, ey ae Wed Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effectin VAN In bloudy death and ravishment F 7 p= >)) Ke delighting, a in Anon his beating heart, allarum strikin Who, angrie that the eyes flie from their lights, SD oN Nor childrens tears, nor mothers grones respecting, Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: E Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking. Ya 8 eS2 IS drumming heart cheares-up his burning eye, His eye commends the leading to his hand; \ His hand, as proud of such a dignitie, Smoaking with pride, marcht on, to make his stand On her bare brest, the heart of all her land; Whose ranks of blew vains, as his hand did scale Left their round turrets destitute and pale. Cy )) (5%, /AE®,k HEY must’ring to the quiet cabinet Where their deare governesse and ladie lies, ‘ Do tell her shee is dreadfullie beset , And fright her with confusion of their cries: Shee y much amaz’d, 5 breakes 0 pe her lockt-up eyes, Who , peeping foorth this tumult Are 2 his flaming torch dim’d andto bahia: controld. ° a é From forth dull sleepe by dreadfull fancie waking, That thinks shee hath beheld some gastlie sprite, J RAPT and confounded in a thousand feares, uy Like to a new-kil’d bird shee trembling lies: Gyre Shee dares not looke; yet winking, there appeares AN RZ Quicke-shifting antiques, uglie in her eyes: Such shadowes are the weake-brains forgeries: In darknes daunts them with more dreadfull sights. sai 7 IS hand that (aly | yet remaines uppon her brest, (Rude ram e batter such an ivorie wall:) ras May feele her heart (poore cittizen) distrest, TELS | Wounding it selfe to death, rise up and fall; Beating her bulke, that his hand shakes withall. This moves in him more rage, and lesser pittie, To make the breach, and enter this sweet citty. a wd IRST, like a trompet, doth his tongue begin, y 8 bo, N79 To sound a parlie to his heartlesse foe, Who ore the white sheet peers her whiter chin, SRR The reason of this rash allarme to know, Which he by dum demeanor seekes to show: But shee with vehement prayers urgeth still, Under what colour he commits this ill. > : uM Misi a HIS said: hee shakes aloft his Romaine blade, Which, like a faulcon towring in the skies, Cowcheth the fowle below with his wings shade, W hose crooked beake threats,if he mount he dies. HUS he replies: The colour in thy face, That even for anger makes the lilly pale, ; And the red rose blush at her owne disgrace, ae ae K Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale: Under that colour am I come to scale So under his insulting fauchion lies Thy never conquered fort; the fault is thine, For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. Harmelesse Lucretia marking what he tels With trembling feare: as fowl hear faulcons bels. 1 te Zz \ HUS I forestall thee, if thou meane to chide: 1 Thy beauty hath ensnar’d thee to this night, ; Where thou with patience must my will abide oe SO) My will that markes thee for my earths delight, Which I to conquer sought with all my might; : But as reproofe and reason beat it dead, By thy bright beautie was it newlie bred. SEE what crosses my attempt will bring; I know what thornes the growing rose defends; y I thinke the honie garded with a sting: 4 All this, before-hand, counsell comprehends: But will is deafe, and hears no heedfull friends; Onely he hath an eye to gaze on beautie, And dotes on what he looks, "gainst law or duety. X4} HAVE debated, even in my soule, ai What wrong,what shame, what sorrow I shal breed; a But nothing can affections course controull, 2 Or stop the headlong furie of his speed. I know repentant teares insewe the deed Reproch, disdaine, and deadly enmity; Yet a I to embrace mine infamy. 2 PYARQRUCRECE, 9 A quoth he, this night I must enjoy thee: Kid If thou aba yD That done, some worthlesse slave of thine Ile slay, then force reat worke my way: anGl] B] For in thy bed I purpose to destroie thee; To kill thine honour with thy lives decaie; And in thy dead armes do I meane to place him, Swearing I slue him, seeing thee imbrace him. S¥7@ O thy surviving husband shall remaine Ay The scornefull marke of everie open eye; WG) Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdaine, _ COPA Thy issue blur’d with namelesse bastardie: And thou, the author of their obloquie, Shalt have thy trespasse cited up in rimes, And sung by children in succeeding times. #9 UT if thou yeeld, I rest thy secret friend: VA ) The fault unknowne is as a thought unacted; i Ay, “A little harme, done to a great good end, Ca’! For lawfull pollicie remaines enacted. The poysonous simple sometime is compacted In a pure compound; being so applied, His venome in effect is purified. HEN, for thy husband and thy childrens sake, Tender my suite: bequeath not to their lot The shame that from them no devise can take, The blemish that will never be forgot; at Worse then a slavish wipe, or birth howrs blot: For markes discried in mens nativitie, Are natures faultes, not their owne infamie. RR (ERE, with a cockeatrice dead-killing rare, | He rowseth up himselfe, and pia Vie As While shee, the picture of pure pietie, SEER h In the remorselesse wrinckles of his face; AS Her modest eloquence with sighes is mixed, VES | Which to her oratorie addes more grace. She puts the period often from his place, And ’midst the sentence so her accent breakes, That twise she doth begin ere once she speakes. e €, tial x HE conjures him by high Almightie Jove, By knighthood, gentrie,and sweete friendships oth, ) By her untimely teares, her husbands love, (ig Pe S=— Like a white hinde under the grypes sharpe clawes, Pleades in a wildernesse, where are no lawes, To the rough beast that knowes no gentle right, Nor ought obayes but his fowle appetite. BeoT [ER pittie-pleading eyes are sadlie fixed ( ay & By holie humaine law, and common troth, By heaven and earth, and all the power of both, That to his borrowed bed he make retire, And stoope to honor, not to fowle desire. when a black-fac’d clowd the world doth thret, FRO In his dim mist th’aspiring mountaines hiding, From earths dark-womb some gentle gust doth get, UOTH shee: Reward not hospitalitie With such black payment as thou hast pretended; Mudde not the fountaine that gave drinke to thee; 2 Which blows these pitchie vapours from their biding, Hind’ring their present fall by this deviding: End thy ill ayme, before thy shoote be ended: And moodie Pluto winks while Orpheus playes. He is no wood-man that doth bend his bow To strike a poore unseasonable doe. So his unhallowed hast her words delayes, Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; ’[Y husband is thy friend, for his sake pale 4 PET, fowle night-waking cat, he doth but dallie, f $ While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth, ey Rw Her sad behaviour feedes his vulture follie, wed A swallowing gulfe that even in plentie wanteth: is eare her prayers admits, but his heart granteth No penetrable entrance to her playning: Tears harden lust though marb le were with rayning. 64 (sf Thy selfe art mightie, for thine own sake leave me; Ci {$A My selfe a eeibatse not then insnare me. E+ Thou look’st not like deceipt; do not deceive me: My sighes, like whirlewindes, labor hence to heave thee. ever man were mov’d with womans mones, Be moved with my teares, my sighes, my grones; 65 HCG LL which to gether, like a troubled ocean, Ke 2 D we Beat at thy rockie and wracke-threatnin g heart, fe—4 (ZN) To soften it with their continuall motion; W WGN For stones dissolv’d to water do convert. O,ifno harder then a stone thou art, To priviledge dishonor in thy name? Thou back’st reproch against long-living lawd, Melt at my teares and be compassionate! Soft pittie enters at an iron gate. Ce z) HCG ND wilt thou be the schoole where lust shall learne? ee, A Se Must he in thee read lectures of such shame? AEA) Wilt thou be glasse wherein it shall discerne Y BO.% Authoritie for sinne, warrant for blame, And mak’st faire reputation but a bawd. Se) re N Tarquins likenesse I did entertaine thee; a AST thou commaund? by him that gave it thee, (een exp) Elast thou put on his shape, to do him shame? A From a pure heart commaund thy rebell will: Draw not thy sword to gard iniquitie, To all the host of heaven I complaine me, Thou wrongst his honor, woundst his princely name. Thou art not what thou seem’st; and if the same Thou seem’st not what thou art,a god,a king; For kings, like gods, should governe every thing. > rae For it was lent thee all that broode to kill. Thy princelie office how canst thou fulfill, When pattern’d by thy fault fowle Sin may say, He learn’d to sin, and thou didst teach the way? OW will thy shame be see ded in thine age, aa Ye.) When thus thy vices bud before thy spring! rs Ifin thy hope thou darst do such outrage, t= What dar’st thou not when once thou art a king? HINKE but how vile a spectacle it were, To view thy present trespasse in another. Mens faults do seldome to themselves appeare: i Nw O be rememb’red, no outragious thing From vassall actors can be Wwipt a way; Then kings misdeedes cannot be hid in clay. ee Their own transgressions partiallie they smother; This guilt would seem death-worthie in thy brother. O how are they wrapt in with infamies, That from their own misdeeds askaunce their eyes! HIS deede will make thee only lov’d for feare, eS But happie monarchs still are fear’d for love: With fowle offendors thou perforce must beare, When they in thee the like offences prove: If but for fea re of this, thy will remove; For princes are the glasse, the schoole, the booke, Where subj ects e1es do learn,do read, do looke. 66 O thee, to thee, my heav’d-up hands appeale, . Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier; I sue for exil’d majesties repeale; Let him returne, and flatt’ring thoughts retire: His true respect will prison false desire, And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eien, That thou shalt see thy state, and pittie mine. f2 67 AVE done, quoth he,my uncontrolled tide aR (| | Turnes not, but swels the higher by this let. Pace l Vp Small lightes are soone blown out, huge fires abide, BS y | BSS | And with the winde in greater furie fret: The petty streames that paie a dailie det To their salt soveraigne, with their fresh fals hast, Adde to his flowe, but alter not his tast. HOU art, quoth shee,a sea,a soveraigne king; And loe, there fals into thy boundlesse flood, 4 a@e i Blacke lust, dishonor, shame, mis-governing, K@B) Who seeke to staine the ocean of thy blood. If all these pettie ils shall change thy good, Thy sea within a puddels wombe is hersed, And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed. Cia NS Ut , O shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave; ‘Thou noblie base, they baselie dignified: Thou their faire life, and they thy fowler grave; Thou lothéd in their shame, they in thy pride: The lesser thing should not the greater hide; The cedar stoopes not to the base shrubs foote, But low shrubs wither at the cedars roote. ,O let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state— ~ No more! quoth he, by heaven I will not hearethee! Yeeld to my love; if not, inforced hate, & In steed of loves coy tutch, shall rudelie teare thee; That done, despitefullie I aia to bens thee Unto the base bed of some rascall groome, To — partner in this shamefull doome. HIS said, he sets his foote uppon the light, For light and lust are deadlie enemies: : Shame, folded up in blind concealing night, y When most unseene, then most doth tyrannize. ee The wolfe hath ceaz’d his pray, the poor lamb cries, Till with her own white fleece her voice control’d Intombes her outcrie in her lips sweet fold: ) LH) OR with the nightlie linnen that shee weares, Ee He pens her piteous clamors in her head; ExG\o'679 Cooling his hot face in the chastest teares S ROBOXS That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed. O, that prone lust should staine so pure a bed! The spots whereof could weeping purifie, Her tears should drop on them perpetuallie. FBI UT shee hath lost a dearer thing then life, & J) And he hath wonne what he would loose againe. A y} This forced league doth force a further strife, joy breeds months of paine, Y-aiEPD This momentarie ts to colde disdaine: This hot desire conver Pure chastitie is rifled of her store, And lust, the theefe, farre poorer then before. SG emu OOK E, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawke, Unapt for tender smell or speedie flight, or altogether bauk Y Sa) Make slow pursuite, The praie wherein by nature they delight; i So surfet-taking Tarquin fares this night: His tast delicious,in digestion sowring, Devoures his will that liv’d by fowle devouring. ) ‘a ¥ rime WW Rtalg ——— OID: a f WD) DEEPER sinne then bottomlesse conceit Can comprehend in still imagination! Y Drunken Desire must vomite his receipt, Fe ies PO| Ere he can see his owne abhomination. While Lust is in his pride no exclamation Can curbe his heat, or reine his rash desire, Till like a jade, self-will himself doth tire. a ey “e S WAJ€4.N Feeble Desire all recreant, poore, and meeke, Y WSO% Like toa banckrout begger wailes his cace: The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with Grace, For there it revels; and when that decaies, The guiltie rebell for remission praies. O fares it with this fault-full lord of Rome, (2, Who this accomplishment so hotly chased; : ~5) Ay A captive victor, that hath lost in gaine; Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth, The scarre that will, dispight of cure, remaine, Leaving his spoile perplext in greater paine. Shee beares the lode of lust he left behinde, And he the burthen ofa guiltie minde. EE, like a theevish dog, creeps sadly thence; D then with lanke and leane discolour’d cheeke, 2 ee With heavie eye, knit-brow, and strengthlesse pace, ZA) SAV’N in this thought through the dark night he stealeth, For now against himselfe he sounds this doome, » That through the length of times he stands disgraced: Besides, his souls faire temple is defaced; To whose weake ruines muster troopes of cares , To aske the spotted princesse how she fares. We \ Shee, like a wearied lambe, lies panting there; He scowles, and hates himselfe for his offence; Ss y yess § She desperat, with her nailes her flesh doth teare; He faintly flies, sweating with guiltie feare; She staies, exclayming on the direfull night; He runnes, and chides his vanisht loth’d delight. Sasem 7 E thence departs,a heavy convertite; (, Ly | She there euaiheu E ovalee cast-away: ye To living death and payne perpetuall: Which in her prescience she contro lled still, But her foresight could not forestal l their will. 70 | Shee prayes shee never may behold the day; For daie, quoth shee, nights scapes doth open lay; And my true eyes have never practiz’d how To cloake offences with a cunning brow. , HEE sayes, her subjects with fowle insurrection Have batter’d downe her consecrated wall, ) And by their mortall fault brought in subjec tion 4 Her immortalitieand , made her thrall He in his speed lookes for the morning light; Aas = HEY thinke not but that everie eye can see The same disgrace which they themselves behold; And therefore would they still in darkenesse be, To have their unseene sinne remaine untold; For they their guilt with weeping will unfold, And grave, like water that doth eate in steele, Uppon my cheeks, what helpelesse shame I tecle: aoe f ERE shee exclaimes against repose and rest, pace i And bids her eyes hereafter still be blinde, aN a Shee wakes her heart by beating on her brest, Nese S And bids it leape from thence, where it maie finde Some purer chest, to close so pure a minde. Franticke with griefe thus breaths shee forth her spite Against the unseene secrecie of night. WCE COMFORT-KILLING night, image of hell! ee AW ~ f 7D) ee Through nights black bosom shuld not peep again; So should I have copartners in my paine: And fellowship in woe doth woe asswage, As palmers’ chat makes short their pilgrimage. 7A Sf ex @ Make war against proportion’d course of time! Or if thou wilt permit the sunne to clime His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed, Knit poysonous clouds about his golden head. To crosse theirarmesand hang their heads with mine, To maske their browes and hide their infamie; Seasoning the earth with showres of silver brine, Mingling my talk with tears, my greef with grones, Poore wasting monuments of lasting mones. HATEFULL, vaporous, and foggy night, Since thou art guilty of my curelesse crime, Muster thy mists to meete the easterne light, HERE now I have no one to blush with me, ZA } Blacke stage for tragedies and murthers fell! Grim cave of death! whisp’ring conspirator With close-tong’d treason and the ravisher! ERE Tarquin night, as he is but nights child, The silver shining queene he would distaine; r 3 Her twinckling handmaids to (by him defil’d) Dim register and notarie of shame! Ba Vast sin-concealing chaos! nourse of blame! Blinde muffled bawd! darke harber for defame! SON A (SX g BEY e iD NIGHT, thou furnace of fowle reeking smoke! Let not the jealous daie behold that face Which underneath thy blacke all-hiding cloke Ee) Immodestly lies martir’d with disgrace. Keepe still possession of thy gloomy place, That all the faults which in thy raigne are made, May likewise be sepulcher’d in thy shade! 1a A ST: ITH rotten damps ravish the morning aire; AY oe Let their exhal’d unholdsome breaths make sicke () we The life of puritie, the supreme faire, AALS Ere he arrive his wearie noone-tide pricke; And let thy mustie vapours march so thicke That in their smoakie rankes, his smoth’red light May set at noone,and make perpetuall night. 72 Ne, AKE me not object to the tell-tale day! tA The light will shew, character’d in my brow, bP The storie of sweete chastities decay, PAC The impious breach of holy wedlocke vowe: ES — Yea, the illiterate that know not how To cipher what is writ in learned bookes, Will cote my lothsome trespasse in my lookes. HE nourse, to still her child, will tell my storie, And fright her crying babe with Tarquins name: The orator, to decke his oratorie, ae Will couple my reproch to Tarquins shame: Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame, Will tie the hearers to attend ech line, How Tarquin wrongéd me,I Colatine. 4 ET my good name, that sencelesse reputation, § For Colatines deare love be kept unspotted: a) If that be made a theame for disputation, ~@ The branches of another roote are rotted; eserv'd reproch to him alotted That is as cleare from this attaint of mine, As I, ere this, was pure to Colatine. pET am I guiltie of thy honors wracke, e Yet for thy honor did I entertaine him; Comming from thee I could not put him backe, ) For it had beene dishonor to disdaine him: Besides of wearinesse he did complaine him, And talk’t of vertue: O unlook’t for evill, When vertue is prophan’d in such a devill! ya AY ww a HY should the worme intrude the maiden bud? Or hatefull kuckcowes hatch in sparrows nests? x Or todes infect faire founts with venome mud? 4ZY Or tyrant follie lurke in gentle brests? Or kings be breakers of their owne behestes? But no perfection is so absolute, That some impuritie doth not pollute. Way UNSEENE shame! invisible disgrace! HE aged man that coffers up his gold Isplagu’d with cramps, and gouts, and painefull fits, 2.8 O unfelt sore! crest-wounding, privat scarre! oe y Reproch is stampt in Colatinus face, 8&4 And Tarquins eye maie read the mot afarre, “* How he in peace is wounded, not in warre. ** Alas! how manie beare such shamefull blowes, Which not themselves, but he that gives them knowes! N And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, But like still-pining Tantalus he sits, ae And useless barnes the harvest of his wits: Having no other pleasure of his gaine, But torment that it cannot cure his paine. SS F, Colatine, thine honor laie in me, x(ex From me by strong assault it is bereft: bg My honnie lost, and I a drone-like bee, @ LZ Have no perfection of my sommer left, But rob’d and ransak’t by injurious theft: In thy weake hive a wandring waspe hath crept, And suck’t the honnie which thy chast bee kept. 74 (@Z =i O then he hath it when he cannot use it, And leaves it to be maist’red by his yong; § J Who in their pride do presently abuse it: Their father was too weake, and they too strong To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long. “The sweets we wish for turne to lothed sowrs “Even in the moment that we call them ours. HEN wilt thou be the humble suppliants friend, LAA And bring him where his suit may be obtained? A The adder hisses where the sweete birds sing; What vertue breedes iniquity devours: o good that we can say is ours, But ill-annexed opportunity Or kils his life, or else his quality. PO ar Say N Ui pele) ROLF AQ) OPPORTUNITY! thy guilt is great: Tis thou that execut’st ae nor treason; Thou set’st the wolfe where he the lambe may get; Whoever plots the sinne, thou point’st the season; Tis thou that spurn’st at right,at law, at reason; And in thy shadie cell, where none may spie him, Sits Sin, to ceaze the soules that wander by him. HOU K@S) makest the vestall violate her oath; Thou blowest the firewhen temperance is thaw’d; ‘ Thou smother’st honestie, thou murth’rest troth; Thou fowle abbettor! thou notorious bawd! Thou plantest scandall, and displacest lawd: Thou ravisher, thou traytor, thou false theefe, Thy honie turnes to gall, thy joy to greefe. pa HY secret pleasure turnes to open shame, y YS, Thy private feasting to a publicke fast; a 44 Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name: eit) Thy sug’red , ; tongue to bitter wormwood tast: Thy violent vanities can never last. St) How comes it then, vile Opportunity Being so bad, such numbers seeke for thee? 76 rx When wilt thou sort an howre great strifes to end? K) Or free that soule which wretchednes hath chained? Give phisicke to the sicke, ease to the pained? The poore, lame, blind, hault, creepe, cry out for thee; But they nere meet with Oportunitie. HE patient dies while the phisitian sleepes; The orphane pines while the oppressor feedes; Justice is feasting while the widow weepes; Advise is sporting while infection breeds; ee Thou graunt’st no time for charitable deeds: Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murthers rages, Thy heinous houres wait on them as their pages. TASKS HEN Trueth and Vertue have to do with thee, Ay ag A thousand crosses keepe them from thy aide: wer They buie thy helpe; but sinne nere gives a fee, R74 He gratis comes; and thou art well apaide As well to heare,as graunt what he hath saide. My Colatine would else have come to me When Tarquin did, but he was staied by thee. UILTY thou art of murther, and of theft; ¥S ) Guilty of perjurie, and subornation; yi) R@ S) 4 Guilty of treason, forgerie, and shift; AS Guilty of incest that abhomination: An accessarie by thine inclination To all sinnes past and all that are to come, From the creation to the generall doome. 55% in TI > O shew the beldame daughters of her daughter, , | ISSHAPEN Time, copesmate of ugly night fos Swift subtle post, carrier of grieslie care; [ZA Eater of youth, false slave to false delight, Base watch of woes, Sins packhorse, Vertues snare; SSL are. Thou noursest all, and murth’rest all that ! Time O heare me then, injurious shifting Be guiltie of my death, since of my crime. HY hath thy servant, O pportunity, Z A Betraide the howres thou gav’st me to repose? 4 Cancel’d my fortunes, and inchained me To endlesse date of never-ending woes? is to fine the hate of foes; office ‘Times To eate up errours by opinion bred, Not spend the dowrie ofa lawfull bed. IMES To mock the subtle,in themselves beguil’d; To cheare the plowman with increasefull crops, And wast huge stones with little water-drops. AY WE) / Wy ) @®) To wake the morne, and centinell the night, To ruinate proud buildings with thy howres, And smeare with dust their glit’ring golden towrs: » oe O fill with worme-holes stately monuments, y A) To feede oblivion with decay of things, “MZ \) \% To blot old bookes, and alter their contents, ke) To plucke the quils from auncient ravens wings, To drie the old oakes sappe, and cherish springs; To spoile antiquities of hammer’d steele, And — if the giddy round of Fortunes wheele: Unlesse thou could’st returne to make amends? x4 One poore retyring minute in an age $7» W ould purchase thee a thousand thousand friends, Lending him wit, that to bad detters lends: O, this dread night, would’st thou one howr come backe, I could prevent this storme, and shun thy wracke! HOU ceaselesse lackie to Eternitie, With some mischance crosse Tarquin in his flight: ») and bring Truth to light, To unmaske Falshoood, To wrong the wronger till he render right; HY work’st thou mischiefe in thy pilgrimage aay glorie is to calme contending kings, + To stampe the seale of time in aged things, XS) @_ To make the child a man, the man a childe, * To slay the tygre that doth live by slaughter, To tame the unicorne, and lion wild: Devise extreames beyond extremitie, y To make him curse this cursed crimefull night: eo Let gastly shadowes his lewd eyes affright; And the dire thought of his committed evill, Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devill. WY KN @ ISTURBE his howres of rest with restlesse trances, WAV \ Afflict him in his bed with bedrid grones; py / Let there bechaunce him pitifull mischances, ? To make him mone, but pitie not his mones: Stone him with hard’ned hearts, harder then stones, And let milde women to him loose their mildnesse, Wilder to him then tygers in their wildnesse. HE crow may bath his coaleblacke wings in mire, ET him have time to teare his curled haire, - And unperceav’d flie with the filth away; Let him have time against himselfe to rave, be —A\\ Let him have time of times helpe to dispaire, ——@ Tet him have time to live a loathed slave, Let him have time a beggers orts to crave; And time to see one that by almes doth live, But eagles gaz’d uppon with everie eye. 1 PER ET him have time to’see his friends his foes, +t Bl as bd Ld And merrie fooles to mocke at him resort; Pe Let him have time to marke how slow time goes YD In time of sorrow, and how swift and short His time of follie and his time of sport: And ever let his unrecalling crime ~ S53 TIME thou tutor both to Teach me to curse him or thou taught’st this ill! Op) uC "EX UT idle wordes, servants to shallow fooles! J Unprofitable sounds, weake arbitrators! SAW ee Gg a) Busie your selves in skill-contending schooles, ~—SA | Debate where leysure serves with dull debators; To trembling clients be you mediators: Since that my case is past the helpe of law. SO \ 7 For me,I force not argument a straw, Have time to waile th’abusing of his time. pa Poore grooms are sightles night; kings glorious day. Gnats are unnoted wheresoere they flie, Disdaine to him disdained scraps to give. es ¥ But if the like the snow-white swan desire, The staine uppon his silver downe will stay. good and bad, At his owne shadow let the theefe runne mad, & Ze) Himselfe himselfe seeke everie howre to kill! {321 N vaine I raile at Oportunitie, ae, Pe, At Time, at Tarquin, and unchearfull night; eg) In vaine I cavill with mine infamie, iva 8 W Tn vaine I spurne at my confirm’d despight: Such wretched hands such wretched blood shuld spill: This helplesse smoake of words doth me no right: For who so base would such an office have, The remedie indeede to do me good, Is to let forth my fowle, defiled blood. As sclandrous deaths-man to so base a slave? HE baser is he, comming from a king, 1 a shame his hope with deedes degenerate. as lee akes ey the eetbics is the thing him honor’d, For greatest scandall waits on greatest or begets him hate; aah cc moone being clouded, presently is mist, ut little stars may hide them when they list. 80 qd Se OORE hand why quiver’st thou at this decree? [Xo VY Honor thy selfe to rid me of this shame; SEED) Me . : “6 = ae lives in ee Sek But if I live thou liv st in my derame: Since thou couldst not defend thy loyall dame, And wast affeard to scratch her wicked fo, Kill both thy selfe and her for yeelding so. g on Z OR shall he smile at thee in secret thought: HIS said, from her betombled couch shee starteth, To finde some desp’rat instrument of death: f) \.)@ But this, no slaughter house, no toole imparteth, | &) To make more vent for passage of her breath, Which thronging through her lips so vanisheth Nor laugh with his companions at thy state; 4 But thou shalt know thy int’rest was not bought =~</25 Basely with gold, but stolne from foorth thy gate. For me I am the mistresse of my fate, As smoake from A®tna, that in aire consumes, And with my trespasse never will dispence, Or that which from discharged cannon fumes. Till life to death acquit my forst offence. CZ F3A41N vaine (quoth shee) I live,and seeke in vaine risk joa Some happie meane to end a haplesse life. A ; NS re tI I fear’d by Tarquins fauchion to be slaine, Y ct for the selfe same purpose seeke a knife: But when I fear’d,I was a loyall wife; So am I now:—O no, that cannot be; Of that true tipe hath Tarquin rifled me. THAT is gone, for which I sought to live, And therefore now I need not feare to die. To cleare this spot by death, at least I give ~~ A badge of fame to sclanders liverie; A dying life, to living infamie: Poore helplesse helpe, the treasure stolne awa f To burne the guiltlesse casket where it lay! ea WILL not poyson thee with my attaint, ee caf iG UWE ey My sable-ground of sinne I will not paint, SZ To hide the truth of this false nights abuses. My tongue shall utter all; mine eyes like sluces, As froma mountaine-spring that feeds a dale, Shal gush pure streams to purge my impure tale. FWY this, lamenting Philomele had ended 2) The well-tun’d warble of her nightly sorrow, “Sy; And solemne night with slow sad gate descended “i= To ouglie Hell; when loe the blushing morrow Lends light to all faire eyes that light will borrow: But cloudie Lucrece shames her selfe to see, And therefore still in night would cloist’red be. < ELL, well, deare Colatine, thou shalt not know The stained tast of violated troth: Wr | will not wrong thy true affection so, SS mae B08 art doting father of his fruite. 2 EV EALING day through every crannie spies, ps And seems to point her out where she sits weeping, To whom shee sobbing speakes: O eye of eyes, Why pry’st thouthrogh my window? leave thy peeping; R24 To flatter thee with an infringed oath; This bastard graffe shall never come to growth: He shall not boast, who did thy stocke pollute, Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin’d excuses; Mock, with thy ticklin g beams, eies that are sleeping; Brand not my forehead with thy percing light, For day hath nought to do what’s done by night. S32 ' 3 ‘OU mocking birds, quoth she, your tunes intombe HUS cavils shee with everie thing shee sees, True griefe is fond and testie as a childe, ; Who wayward once, his mood with naughtagrees, Old woes, not infant sorrowes beare them milde; Continuance tames the one; the other wilde, Like an unpractiz’d swimmer plunging still, With too much labour drowns for want of skill. O shee, deepe-drenched in a sea of care, Wh ) 7(a Ur” /, 2 Holds disputation with ech thing shee vewes, )\ And to her selfe all sorrow doth compare; No object but her passions strength renewes; Within your hollow-swelling feathered breasts, VA i mae) And in my hearing be you mute and dumbe! ie? S8e3 My restlesse discord loves no stops nor rests; A woefull hostesse brookes not merrie guests. Ralish your nimble notes to pleasing eares; Distress likes dumps when time is kept with teares. SES rasa ee ASW OME, Philomele, that sing’st of ravishment, Make thy sad grove in my dishevel’d heare; As the danke earth weepes at thy languishment, So I at each sad straine will straine a teare, And as one shiftes, another straight insewes: And with deepe grones the diapason beare: Sometime her griefe is dumbe, and hath no words; Sometime ’tis mad,and too muche talke affords. For burthen-wise Ile hum on Tarquin still, While thou on Tereus descant’st better skill. HE little birds that tune their mornings joy, Make her mones mad with their sweet melodie, For mirth doth search the bottome of annoy, Sad soules are slaine in merrie companie; iS Griefe best is pleased with griefes societie: True sorrow then is feelinglie suffiz’d, When with like semblance it is simpathiz’d. IS double death to drowne in ken of shore: 4 He ten times pines that pines beholding food; ; To see the salve doth make the wound ake more; a Great griefe greeves mostat that wold do it good; Deepe woes roll forward like a gentle flood, Who being stopt, the bounding banks oreflowes, Griefe dallied with nor law nor limit knowes. 84. CEH IZA ND whiles against a thorne thou bear’st thy part, ey EN To keepe che sharpe woes waking, wretched I, 4 (ZA) To imitate thee well, against my heart BOS Will fixe a sharpe knife, to affright mine eye; if it winke, shall thereon fall and die. Who, These meanes, as frets upon an instrument, Shal tune our heart-strings to true languishment. RE RVCZAND for, poore bird, thou sing’st not in the day, REZs INS As shaming anie eye should thee behold, 4 (ZN) Some darke deepe desert, seated from the way, 23%. That knows not parching heat nor freezing cold, Will wee find out; and there we will unfold To creatures stern, sad tunes, to change their kinds: Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear gentle minds. 85 Wee j ee =@ (29) 3Q % S the poore frighted deare, that stands at gaze, Wildly determining which way to flie, Or one incompast with a winding maze, That cannot tread the way out readilie; So with her selfe is shee in mutinie, To live or die, which of the twaine were better, When life is sham’d, and Death Reproches detter. O kill my selfe, quoth shee, alacke! what were it, , But with my body my poore soules pollusion? They that loose halfe, with greater patience beare it > oe Then they whose whole is swallowed in confusion. That mother tries a mercilesse conclusion, Who having two sweet babes, when death takes one, Will slay the other, and be nurse to none, gET die I will not, till my Colatine #} Have heard the cause of my untimelie death; My stained bloud to Tarquin Ie bequeath, Which by him tainted, shall for him be spent, And as his due, writ in my testament. Y honor Ile bequeath unto the knife GJ That wounds my bodie so dishonored, Ca IEA Tis honor to deprive dishonor’d life; ES The one will live, the other being dead: So of shames ashes shall my fame be bred; For in my death I murther shamefull scorne: My shame so dead, mine honor is new-borne. Y bodie or my soule, which was the dearer? (Sa When the one pure, the other made devine, | Whose love of eyther to my selfe was nearer? When both were kept for heaven and Colatine: Ay me! the barke pil’d from the lofti e pine, His leaves will wither, and his sap decay; So must my soule, her barke bein g pil’d away. god ER house is sackt, her quiet interrupted, | eq f— Yi Ye) | Her mansion batter’d by the enemie; a aT Her sacred temple sp otted, spoil’d, corrupted, ES Groslie ingirt with d aring infa mie: Then let it not be cal’d impietie , If in this blemisht fort I make some hole pacers which I may con vay this troubled soule. What legacie shall I bequeath to thee? My neant ustmlvssehall be thy bost, By whose example thou reveng d mayst How Tarquin must be us’d, read it in me, LN i os be. My self, thy friend, will kill my selfe, thy fo, And, for my sake,serve thou false Tarquin so. HIS briefe abridgement of my will I make ; ) Y My soule and bodie to the skies and ground; i My resolution, husband, doe thou take, Mine honor be the knifes, that makes my wound; eS My shame be his that did my fame confound; Andall my fame that lives, disbursed be To those that live and thinke no shame of me. 87 NOS usin HOU, Colatine, shalt oversee this will; How was I overseene that thou shalt see it! . )\¢ My bloud shall wash the sclander of mine ill; K@) My lives foule deed, my lifes faire end shall free it. ot Faint not faint heart, but stoutlie say: so be it. RSV 44 PRETTIE while these prettie creatures stand, Ne Like ivorie conduits corall cesterns filling: as WA) One justlie weepes; the other takes in hand WSO VW X% No cause but companie, of her drops spilling: Their gentle sex to weepe are often willing; Yeeld to my hand; my hand shall conquer thee; Greeving themselves to gesse at others smarts, Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be. And then they drown their eies, or break their harts. \A) OR men have marble, women waxen mindes, ,) a HIS plot of death when sadlie shee hath layd, ray) And wip’t the brinish pearle from her bright eies, . ¢4 And therefore are they form’d as marble will; ENS 629 The weake opprest, th’impression of strange kindes 4 With untun’d tongue shee hoarslie cals her mayd, “* For fleet-wing’d duetie with thoghts feathers flies. Is form’d in them by force, by fraud, or skill: TRGB Then call them not the authors of their ill, Poore Lucrece cheeks unto her maid seem so As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow. Wherein is stampt the semblance of a devill. Y) Whose swift obedience to her mistresse hies; =a aS | zee ER mistresse shee doth give demure good-morrow, He) W ith soft slow tongue, true marke of modestie SY And sorts a sad looke to her ladies sorrow, y B.C (For why her face wore sorrowes liverie) But durst not aske of her audaciouslie, Why her two suns were clowd-eclipsed so, Nor why her faire cheeks over-washt with woe. 33 UT as the earth doth weepe, the sun being set, # Each flowre moistned like a melting eye; Even so the maid with swelling drops ’gan wet Her circled eien, inforst by simpathie Of those faire suns, set in her mistresse skie Who ina salt-wav’d ocean quench their li the; ve makes the maid weep like the dewy night. No more then waxe shall be accounted evill, Gap PD ines smoothnesse, like a goodly champaine plaine, Laies open all the little wormes that creep; Kg) S 5 %, ; In men,as in a rough-grown grove, remain os Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleepe: Through christall wals ech little mote will peepe: Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks, Poore womens faces are their owne faults books. fei O man inveigh against the withered flowre, But chide rough winter that the flowre hath kild! ) Not that devour’d, but that which doth devour, Is worthie blame, O let it not be hild Poore womens faults, that they are so fulfil’d With mens abuses! those proud lords to blame, Make weak-made women tenants to their shame. ; 9 ig O get mee hither paper, inke, and pen— >» Yet save that labour, for I have them heare: HE president whereof, in Lucrece view, A Assail’d by night with circumstances strong ¥ Of present death, and shame that might insue ‘4 What should I say? —One of my husbands men Such danger to resistance did belong, .% Bid thou be readie, by and by, to beare A letter to my lord, my love,my deare; And who cannot abuse a bodie dead? The cause craves hast,and it will soone be writ. By that her death, to do her husband wrong; ee That dying, feare through all her bodie spred, F5 Y this, milde Patience bid faire Lucrece speake, To the poore counterfaite of her complayning: My girle, quoth shee, on what occasion breake Those tears from thee,that downethy cheeks are raigning? If thou dost weep for griefe of my sustaining: Know gentle wench it small availes my mood, a Ny) If tears could help, mine own would do me good. 9UT tell me girle, when went (and there shee staide Till after a deepe grone) Tarquin from hence? Madame, ere I was up (repli’d the maide,) The more to blame my sluggard negligence: Yet with the fault I thus farre can dispence; My selfe was stirring ere the breake of day, And, ere I rose, was Tarquin gone away. f\9 UT, lady, if your maide may be so bold, wf) Shee would request to know your heavinesse: ) O peace! quoth Lucrece; if it should be told, 2 The repetition cannot make it lesse; For more it is then I can well expresse: And that deepe torture may be cal’d a hell, When more is felt then one hath power to tell. go Bid him with speede prepare to carrie it; | ER maide is gone, and shee prepares to write, Paes } First hovering ore the paper with her quill: Conceipt and griefe an eager combat fight; (SS Vi Bx-SS f What wit sets downe, is blotted straight with will; mY Qa This is too curious-good, this blunt and ill; Much like a presse of people at a dore Throng her inventions, which shall go before. SOS T last shee thus begins: Thou worthie lord, Fu IQS Health to thy person! next, vouchsafe afford (If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see,) es re deJ Of that unworthie wife that greeteth thee, Some present speed to come and visite me: So I commend me from our house in griefe; My woes are tedious, though my words are briefe. Pe | ae. re ERE folds shee up the tenure of her woe, Her certaine sorrow writ uncertainely. AFA) By this short cedule Colatine may know peS? $ Her griefe, but not her griefes true quality; Shee dares not thereof make discovery, Lest he should hold it her own grosse abuse, Ere she with bloud had stain’d her stain’d excuse. Sf 5, As When sighs, and grones, & tears may grace the fashion 2 Of her disgrace, the better so to cleare her HEN, seelie groome! God wot,it was defect EA Of spirite, life, and bold audacitie. Wy Such harmlesse creatures have a true respect AN KZ» To talke in deeds, while others saucilie From that suspicion which the world might bear her. Promise more speed, but do it leysurelie: To shun this blot, shee would not blot the letter With words, till action might becom them better. Even so, the patterne of this worne-out age, O see sad sights moves more then heare them told; For then the eye interpretes to the eare ¢ The heavie motion that it doth behold, @ KG) When everie part a part of woe doth beare. Tis but a part of sorrow that we heare: Deep sounds make lesser noise then shallow foords, And sorrow ebs, being blown with wind of words. pe a co y 4 ‘ie ao > . Ss ER letter now is& seal’d, and on it writ: At Ardea to my Lord with more then hast: : : re W/E ay The post attends, and shee delivers it, ae = + Charging the sowr-fac’d groome to high as fast As lagging fowles before the northerne blast. Speed more then speed, but dul and slow she deems: Extremity still urgeth such extremes, HE homie villaine curtsies to her low; And, blushing on her, with a stedfast eye ¢ Receaves the scroll, without or yea or no, { And forth with bashfull innocence doth hie, But they whose guilt within their bosomes lie, Imagine everie eye beholds their blame; For Lucrece thought he blusht to see her shame, g2 Pawn’d honest looks, but laid no words to gage. eS, IS kindled duetie kindled her mistrust, (ay _} That two red fires in both their faces blazed; aN Sh Shee thought he blusht, asknowing Tarquins lust, y ELS And, blushing with him, wistlie on him gazed; Her earnest eye did make him more amazed: The more shee saw the bloud his cheeks replenish, The more she thought he spied in her som blemish. FY UT long shee thinkes till he returne againe, 4) And yet the dutious vassall scarce is gone. For now’ tis stale to sigh, to weepe, and grone: So woe hath wearied woe, mone tired mone, That shee her plaints a little while doth stay, Pawsing for means to mourne some newer way. i Of skilfull painting, made for Priams Troy; ZA) Before the which is drawn the power of Greece, @.N, For Helens rape the cittie to destroy, Threat’ning cloud-kissing Illion with annoy; Which the conceipted painter drew so prowd, As Heaven, it seemed, to kisse the turrets bow’d. —— == » we" MOCoH (it 1a == Y WSO we 4 THOUSAND lamentable objects there, In scorne of Nature, Art gave livelesse life: Ay Many a dry drop seem’d a weeping teare, % Shed for the slaught’red husband by the wife: The red bloud reek’d to shew the painters strife; And dying eyes gleem’d forth their ashie lights, Like dying coales burnt out in tedious nights. k\ HERE pleading might you see grave Nestor stand, As ’twere incouraging the Greekes to fight; | Making such sober action with his hand, Y That it beguil’d attention, charm’d the sight: 3 In speech, it seem’d, his beard, all silver white, Wag’d up and downe, and from his lips did flie y Thin winding breath, which purl’d up to the skie. —s HERE might you see the labouring pyoner Begrim’d with sweat, and smeared all with dust; ; And from the towres of Troy there would appeare 2) The verie eyes of men through loop-holes thrust, Gazing uppon the Greekes with little lust: Such sweet observance in this worke was had, That one might see those farre-of eyes looke sad. Ys Webay a I Which seem’d to swallow up his sound advice; ) All joyntlie list’ning, but with severall graces, Asif some marmaide did their eares intice; Some high, some low, the painter was so nice: RagN Ajax and Ulysses, O what art es Of phisiognomy might one behold! The face of eyther *cypher’d eythers heart; Their face, their manners most expreslie told: In Ajax eyes blunt rage and rigour rol’d, But the mild glance that slie Ulysses lent, Shewed deepe regard and smiling gover nment. 94 7 The scalpes of manie, almost hid behind, Tojump up higher seem’d,to mocke the mind. N great commaunders, grace, and majestie You might behold, triumphing in their faces; In youth, quick-bearing and dexteritie; XK ASA And here and there the painter interlaces Pale cowards, marching on with trembling paces; Which hartlesse peasaunts did so wel resemble, That one would swear he saw them quake and tremble. Pal 84 Wee BOUT him were a presse of gaping faces, ee, ah ERE one mans hand lean’d on anothers head, h His nose being shadowed by his neighbours eare; Here one being throng’d, bears back, all boln and red: Another, smother’d, seemes to pelt and sweare; And in their rage such signes of rage they beare, As, but for losse of Nestors golden words, It seem’d they would debate with angrie swords. = OS OR much imaginarie worke was there; ; Conceipt deceitfull, so compact, so kinde, ree That for Achilles image stood his speare, 2 SORA Grip’t in an armed hand; himselfe, behind Was left, unseene, save to the eye of mind: A hand,a foote,a face,a leg, a head, Stood for the whole to be imagined. = = Ne AVR " Veta a ea CEHVCAAND from the wals of strong-besieged Troy, LY LY When their brave hope, bold Hector march’d to field, ra Stood manie Trojan mothers, sharing joy WSE™ FY To see their youthfull sons bright weapons wield; And to their hope they such odde action yeeld, That, through their light joy seemed to appeare, Like bright things stain’d, a kind of heavie feare. CVA ND, from the strond of Dardan, where they fought, vat ik Ld To Simois reedie bankes the red bloud ran, ws eo ZN Whose waves to imitate the battle sought y BOX With swelling ridges;and their rankes began To breake uppon the galled shore, and than Retire againe, till meeting greater ranckes They joine, and shoot their fome at Simois bancks. P(e GFN To give her so much griefe, and not a tong. instrument, quoth shee, without a sound, ) set) OORE my lamentingsa tongue: 4 =H ia) Ile tune thy woes with a Zy {Xl WN r rie QZ we 3 bX y, Her cheeks with chops and wrincles were disguizd; Owe 54 Of what shee Her blew bloud chang’d Wanting the spring that Shew’d life imprison’d in 96 was,no semblance did remaine: to blacke in everie vaine, those shrunke pipes had fed, a bodie dead. iy) HEW me the strumpet that began this stur, GPA This lode of wrath that burning Troy doth beare; Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here: And here in Troy, for trespasse of thine eye, The sire, the sonne, the dame and daughter die. (V mm That with my nailes her beautie I may teare. Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur Manie shee sees, where cares have carved some, But none where all distresse and dolor dwel’d, Times ruine, beauties wracke, and grim cares raign; wound, Of all the Greekes that are thine enemies. 444 N her the painter had anathomiz’d (ys And drop sweet balme in Priams painted And raile on Pirrhus that hath done him wrong, Ea And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long; And with my knife scratch out the angrie eyes To find a face where all distresse is stel’d. Till shee dispayring Hecuba beheld, Staring on Priams wounds with her old eyes, Which, bleeding, under Pirrhus proud foot lies. J oo PY Who nothing wants to answer her but cries, LOG And bitter words to ban her cruell foes: The painter was no god to lend her those; And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong, O this well painted peece is Lucrece come, “8%, “#Z ky i @_ XS) —_ SN this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes, BY And shapes her sorrow to the beldames woes, HY should the private pleasure of some one Become the publicke plague of manie moe? Let sinne, alone committed, light alone ANS WEA » Uppon his head that hath transgressed so. Let guiltlesse soules be freed from guilty woe: For ones offence why should so many fall, To plague a private sinne in generall? ’ ainWate nL ia ee ak: 9 UT, like a constant and confirmed devill, ) He entertain’d a show so seeming just, And therein so ensconct his secret evill, O, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies, we Here manly Hector faints, here Troylus sounds; ] Here friend by friend in bloudie channel lies, ) And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds, ans lust these manie lives confounds: Had doting Priam checkt his sons desire, Troy had bin bright with fame, and not with fire. (ee | ror feelingly she weeps Troyes painted woes: Ye} For sorrow, like a heavie-hanging bell, AW ASS Once set on ringing, with his own waight goes; ‘ 2 That Jealousie it selfe could not mistrust False creeping Craft and Perjurie should thrust Into so bright a daie such blackfac’d storms, Or blot with hell-born sin such saint-like forms. HE well-skil’d workman this milde image drew , For perjur’d Sinon, whose inchaunting storie « The credulous old Priam after slew: VES \ Then little strength rings out the doleful knell: So Lucrece set a work, sad tales doth tell To pencel’d pensiveness, and colour’d sorrow; And little stars shot from their fixed places Shee lends them words, and she their looks doth borrow. When their glas fel wherin they view’d their faces. “| ed S) 3 (SS) Whose words, like wildfire, burnt the shining glorie Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorie; HEE throwes her eyes about the painting round, ¢ And who shee finds forlorne, shee doth lament: HIS picture shee advisedly perused, At last shee sees a wretched image bound, Us That piteous lookes to Phrygian sheapherds lent; His face, though full of cares, yet shew’d content: Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes, So mild, that Patience seem’d to scorne his woes. i N him the painter labour’d with his skill YER Oy, To hide deceipt, and give the harmlesse show Ww ey) An humble gate, calme looks, eyes wayling still, MO O74 A brow unbent that seem’d to welcome wo; Cheeks neither red nor pale, but mingled so That blushing red, no guiltie instance gave, Nor ashie pale, the feare that false hearts have. 98 Ot KD) And chid the painter for his wondrous skill; ; Saying, some shape in Sinons was abus’d, So faire a forme lodg’d not a mind so ill; And still on him shee gaz’d,and gazing still, Such signes of truth in his plaine face shee spied, That shee concludes the picture was belied. PN Re T cannot be, quoth shee, that so much guile, ee Shee would have said, can lurke in such a looke; NG we) But Tarquins shape,came in her mind the while, And from her tongue, can lurk, from cannot, tooke; ~~~ It cannot be, shee in that sence forsooke, And turn’d it thus: It cannot be I find, But = a face should beare a wicked mind: 2 poe OR even as subtill Sinon here is painted, 2) So sober-sad,so wearie, and so milde, ie (Asif with griefe or travaille he had fainted) mee (BCS To me came Tarquin arméd; so beguil’d With outward honestie, but yet defil’d With inward vice: as Priam him did cherish, So did I Tarquin; so my Troy did perish. Feo opens ibe V For everie teare »ps fire,no water Those round clear pearls of Are bals of quenchlesse fire Y@l UCH ex X@) he fals,a Trojan bleeds; thence proceeds: his that move thy pitty, to burne thy citty. Though wo be heavie, yet it seldome sleepes; And they that watch, see time, how slow it creeps. @ HICH all this time hath overslipt her thought, WIAA That shee with painted images hath spent: yr” Being from the feeling of her own griefe brought 4 By deepe surmise of others detriment; Loosing her woes in shews of discontent. It easeth some, though none it ever cured, To thinke their dolour others have endured. devils steale effects from lightlesse hell; @22 For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold, y And in that cold, hot-burning fire doth dwell, & These contraries such unitie do hold, Only to flatter fooles,and make them bold: So Priams trust false Sinons teares doth flatter, That he finds means to burne his Troy with water. ERE, all inrag’d,such passion her assailes, ) That patience is quite beaten from her breast. Shee tears the sencelesse Sinon with her nailes, Comparing him to that unhappie guest Whose deede hath made herselfe herselfe detest: At last shee smilingly with this gives ore; Foole! fool! quoth she, his wounds will not be sore. 100 And both shee thinks too long with her remayning: Short time seems long in sorrowes sharp sustayning, list’ning Priam wets his eyes, ay Eryee To see those borrowed teares that Sinon sheeds. o~ C p) Priam, why art thou old, and yet not wise? ps HUS ebs and flowes the currant of her sorrow, And time doth wearie time with her complayning. Shee looks for night, and then shee longs for morrow, & Brings home his lord and other companie; ws) Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black; PSD And round about her teare-distained eye Blew circles stream’d, like rain-bows in the skie, These watergalls in her dim element, Foretell new stormes to those alreadie spent. rASHA HICH when her sad-beholding husband saw, fy WJ EA Ws oS kFT% He hath no Amazedlie in her Her eyes, though Her livelie colour power to aske her sad face he stares: sod in tears, look’d red and raw, kil’d with deadlie cares. how shee fares: Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance Met far from home, wond’ring ech others chance. va, Se WKS T last he takes her by the bloudlesse hand, yey ta pa ZA) And thus begins: What uncouth ill event Hath thee befalne, that thou dost trembling stand? Y BO. Sweet love, what spite hath thy faire colour spent? Why art thou thus attir’d in discontent? Unmaske, deare deare, this moodie heavinesse, Ifthou my loves desire do contradict. And tell thy griefe, that we may give redresse. HREE times with sighes shee gives her sorrow fire, Ere once shee can discharge one word of woe: At length addrest to answer his desire, oe OR in the dreadfull dead of darke midnight, =a With shining fauchion in my chamber came zz 4) a TN A creeping creature with a flaming light, T SOBA And softly cried: Awake thou Romaine dame, And entertaine my love; else lasting shame On thee and thine this night I will inflict, Shee modestlie prepares to let them know @) OR some hard-favour’d groom of thine, quoth he, =) oy Unlesse thou yoke thy liking to my will, \z N24 TRGB Ile murther straight, and then Ile slaughter thee, And sweare I found you where you did fulfill Her honor is tane prisoner by the foe; The lothsome act of lust, and so did kill While Colatine and his consorted lords With sad attention long to heare her words. The lechors in their deed: this act will be My fame, and PCN pad SA D now this pale swan, in her watrie nest, Begins the sad dirge of her certaine ending: Mey BNA Begins the sad dirge of her : Wey ve ZV certain ending: . Few words, quoth shee, shall fit the trespasse best, (ES Where no excuse can give the fault amending: In me moe woes then words are now depending; And my laments would be drawn out too long, To tell them all with one poore tired tong. HEN be this all the taske it hath to say: Deare husband, in the interest of thy bed ; A stranger came, and on that pillow lay, Where thou wast wont to rest thy wearie head; Se thy perpetuall infamy. ITH this I did begin to start and cry, wes And then steahabertey heart he set his sword, Fx Swearing, unlesse I tooke all patiently, EY I should not live to speake another word: So should my shame still rest upon record, And never be forgot in mightie Roome Th’adulterat death of Lucrece and her groome. INE enemy was strong, my poore selfe weake, (lA And farre the weaker with so strong a feare: My bloudie judge forbod my tongue to speake; And what wrong else may be imagined ES No rightfull plea might plead for justice there: His scarlet lust came evidence to sweare That my poore beautie had purloin’d his eyes, From that, alas! thy Lucrece is not free. And when the judge iSa \ By foule inforcement might be done to me, 102 is rob’d, the prisoner dies. TEACH me how to make mine owne excuse! s\ Or, at the least, this refuge let me finde; Though my grosse bloud be stain’d with this abuse, PI ISV_44 ND for my sake when I might charme thee so, yo For shee ios was thy eeeaieica bed attend me; WS ES Be sodainelie revenged on my foe; VY BIEN Thine, mine, his own; suppose thou dost defend me ~@ Immaculate and spotlesse is my mind; ‘That was not fore’d; that never was inclin’d From what is past: the helpe that thou shalt lend me To accessarie yeeldings, but still pure Doth in her poyson’d closet yet endure. Comes all too late, yet let the traytor die; For sparing justice feeds iniquitie. ¥ O heare, the hopelesse marchant of this losse, aaQ With head declin’d,and voice dam’d up with wo, @\ With sad-set eyes and wretched armes acrosse, @ From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow The griefe away, that stops his answer so: But wretched as he is, he strives in vaine; What he breaths out, his breath drinks up again. 4 9 UT ere I name him, you faire lords, quoth shee, J (Speaking to those that came with Colatine) A ky.) Shall plight your honourable faiths tome, _ ZB US With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine; For ’tis a meritorious faire designe, To chase injustice with revengefull armes: by their oaths, should right poore ladies harmes. Knights, TN SOAS S through an arch the violent roaring tide / NLA Outruns the eye that doth behold his hast; _ = ZA) Yet in the edie boundeth in his pride, VYBOX Backe to the strait that forst him on so fast; In rage sent out, recal’d in, rage being past: Even so his sighes, his sorrowes make a saw, To push griefe on, and back the same grief draw. yw S25 KN HICH speechlesse woe of his, poore she attendeth, U ma, And his untimelie frenzie thus awaketh: rx Deare lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth BAZ Another power; no floud by raining slaketh, My woe, too sencible, thy passion maketh More feeling-painful: let it than suffice To drowne one woe, one paire of weeping eyes. 104 CHa va y be \y this request, with noble disposition, Each present lord began to promise aide, ZA) As bound in knighthood to her imposition, IW VY WGN Longing to heare the hatefull foe bewraide. But shee, that yet her sad taske hath not said, The protestation stops: O speake, quoth shee, How may this forced staine be wip’d from me? HAT is the qualitie of my offence, A Being constrayn’d with dreadfull circumstance? te May my pure mind with the fowle act dispence, My low-declined honor to advance? May anie termes acquit me from this chance? The poysoned fountaine cleares it selfe againe; And why not I from this compelled staine? Ohh A S44 ZITH this they all at once began to saie, 2A Her bodies staine her mind untainted cleares; Sid While, with a joylesse smile, shee turnes awaie RZ The face, that map which deepe impression beares Of hard misfortune carv’d in it with tears. No! no! quoth shee, no dame hereafter living, By my excuse shall claime excuses giving. ERE, with a sigh as if her heart would breake, Ye.) She throwes forth Tarquins name: He, he, she saies, i. (GB Zu AN 7} But more then He, her poore tong could not speake; y ES Till after manie accents and delaies, Untimelie breathings, sicke and short assaies, Shee utters this: He, he, faire lords, tis He That guides this hand to give this wound to me. CI HVK_€4 rat ee ea Le VUE Bare and unpeopled, in this fearfull flood. Some of her bloud still pure and red remain’d, And som look’d black, and that false Tarquin stain’d. Ee BOUT the mourning and congealed face ey d Mog Of that blacke blood, a wat’rie rigoll goes, AA And bloud untainted, still doth red abide, Blushing at that which is so putrified. UT Xg A) AUGHTER, deare daughter, old Lucretius cries, A) That life was mine which thou hast here deprived: iid ) Ifin the childe the fathers image lies, / / That blowe did baile it from the deepe unrest > Of that polluted prison where it breathed: Cig Yt TONE-STILL, astonisht with this deadlie deed, Stood Colatine and all his lordly crew, ) Till Lucrece father, that beholds her bleed, & Himselfe on her selfe-slaught’red bodie threw; And from the purple fountaine Brutus drew The murdrous knife, and as it left the place, Her bloud, in poore revenge, held it in chase: 106 Which seemes to weep upon the tainted place: 7 BxO % Andever since, as pittying Lucrece woes, Corrupted bloud some waterie token showes; (SQV EN here she sheathed in her harmlesse breast A harmfull knife, that thence her soule unsheathed: Her contrite sighes unto the clouds bequeathed Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth flie Lives lasting date, from cancel’d destinie. N D, bubling from her brest, it doth devide In two slim teeny that the crimson bloud Circles her bodie in on everie side, Who like a late sackt iland vastlie stood Y Where shall I live, now Lucrece is unlived? Thou wast not to this end from me derived. If children predecease progenitours, Weare their offspring, and they none of ours. ) rep OORE id -¥, a (are Eau O,from thy broken glasse! I often'did behold In thy sweet semblance,my old age new borne; But a that faire fresh inch dim and old, Shewes me a barebon’d death by time out-worne; cheekes my image thou hast torne! And shiver’d all the beautie of my glasse, That I no more can see what once J was. i Le uoINnv” Pe vio ive PIN: \G iy TIME, cease thou thy course, and last no longer, If they surcease to be that should survive: Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger w And leave the faultring feeble soules alive? The old bees die, the young possesse their hive: Then live, sweet Lucrece, live againe, and see Thy father die, and not thy father thee! Y this starts Colatine as from a dreame, VIA wy And bids Lucrecius give his sorrow place; AY And than in key-cold Lucrece bleeding streame <a He fals,and bathes the pale feare in his face, And counterfaits to die with her a space; Till manly shame bids him possesse his breath, And live, to be revenged on her death. HE one doth call her his, the other his, 4, Yet neither may possesse the claime they lay. ; The father saies: Shee’s mine: O mine shee is, > : #) Replies her husband: do not take away My sorrowes interest; let no mourner say He weepes for her, for shee was onely mine, And onelie must be wayl’d by Colatine. (ew ALY QUOTH Lucretius,I did give that life Which shee to earely and too late hath spil’d. a Ny) W oe! woe! quoth Colatine, shee was my wife, "SPA I owed her, and ’tis mine that shee hath kil’d. My daughter! and, my wife! with clamors fil’d The disperst aire, who holding Lucrece life, Answer’d their cries: My daughter! and, my wife! ik HE deepe vexation of his inward soule, FIR UTUS, who pluckt the knife from Lucrece side, 4) Seeing such emulation in their woe, _ 1 Hath serv’d a dumbe arrest upon his tongue; Who, mad that sorrow should his use controll, oe Or keepe him from heart-easing words so long, Begins to talke; but through his lips do throng Weake words, so thick come, in his poor harts aid, That no man could distinguish what he said. »)) Began to cloath his wit in state and pride, PY Burying in Lucrece wound his follies show. 2 He with the Romains was esteemed so : As seelie jeering idiots are with kings, For sportive words, and utt’ring foolish things. pET sometime Tarquin was pronounced plaine, 24 But through his teeth, as if the name he tore: 4 Chis windie tempest, till it blow up raine, ) Held backe his sorrowes tide, to make it more; At last it raines,and busie windes give ore: Then sonne and father weep with equall strife, Who + 10 oe weep most, for daughter or for wife. #9 UT lA now he throwes that shallow habit by, Ky} Wherein deepe pollicie did him disguise; ‘a Ay) And arm’d his long-hid wits advisedlie ) -SIAwD To checke the teares in Colatinus eies. Thou wronged lord of Rome, quoth he, arise, Let my unsounded selfe, suppos’d a foole, Now set thy long-experienct wit to schoole. = yiur Wiaters: ai HY, Colatine, is woe the cure for woe? ZA Do wounds helpe wounds, or griefe helpe greevous deeds? Fon Is it revenge to give thy selfe a blow, For his fowle act, by whom thy faire wife bleeds? Such childish humor from weake minds proceeds: Thy wretched wife mistooke the matter so, To slaie her selfe, that should have slaine her foe. Gi J OURAGIOUS , nx Romaine, do not steepe thy hart In such relenting dew of lamentations, to beare th part, But kneele with me and helpe To rowse our Romaine gods with invocations, That they will suffer these abhominations. I, S240 i) (Since Rome her self in them doth stand disgraced,) By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chaced. Wek OW by the Capitoll that we adore, 4 § And by this chast bloud so unjustlie stained, 54) By heavens faire sun, that breeds the fat earths store, aw: By all our countrey rights in Rome maintained, And by chast Lucrece soule that late complained Her wrongs to us, and by this bloudie knife, We will revenge the death of this true wife. HIS sayd, he strooke his hand upon his breast , 1 And kist the fatall knife to end his vow; And to his protestation urg’d the rest, Who, wond’ring at him, did his words allow : Then joyntlie to the ground their knees they bow; And that deepe vow which Brutus made befor e, He doth againe repeat, and that they swore. 110 vA Ses Ae Gyre mes y HEN they had sworne to this advised doome, They did conclude to beare dead Lucrece thence; To shew her bleeding bodie thorough Roome, And so to publish Tarquins fowle offence: Which being done with speedie diligence, The Romaines plausibly did give consent To Tarquins everlasting banishment. TAN sk TO.THE.ONLIE.BEGETTER.OF. THESE.INSVING.SONNETS. Mr. W.H. ALL.HAPPINESSE. AND.THAT.ETERNITIE. PROMISED. BY. OVR.EVER-LIVING.POET. WISHETH. THE.WELL-WISHING. ADVENTVRER.IN. Sb EIENGFORTH. * eraTae she I. ROM fairest creatures we desire increase, ) gy \ SEZ YY TN That thereb beauties rose might never die, But as the oer should by cine decease, G KORCS His tender heire might beare his memory: eyes, But thou, contracted to thine owne bright Feed’st thy lights flame with selfe-substantiall fewell, Making a famine where aboundance lies, Thy selfe thy foe, to thy sweet selfe too cruell. Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament, And only herauld to the gaudy spring, t, Within thine owne bud buriest thy conten And, tender chorle, mak’st wast in niggarding. Pitty the world, or else this glutton be, To eate the worlds due, by the grave and thee. Il. HEN , fortie winters shall beseige thy brow ties field, A And digge deep trenches in thy beau NWR on now, Thy youthes proud livery, so gaz’d h held: FFX Wil be a totter’d weed, of smal wort Then being askt where all thy beautie lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty daies; To say, within thine owne deepe sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftlesse praise. How much more praise deserv'd thy beautie’s use, If thou could’st answere: This faire child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse; Prooving his beautie by succession thine. This were to be new-made when thou art ould, st it could. And see thy blood warme when thou feel’ V. iY HOSE howers that with gentle worke did frame SSG OOKE in thy glasse, and tell the face thou vewest, The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, ¥ Will play the tirants to the very same, s@ Now is the time that face should forme an other; SA) =a Whose fresh repaire if now thou not renewest, Thou doo’st beguile the world, unblesse some mother. s she so faire whose un-ear’d wombe Disdaines the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond, will be the tombe Of his self-love, to stop posterity? Thou art thy mothers glasse, and she in thee Calls backe the lovely Aprill of her prime: So thou through windowes of thine age shalt see, Dispight of wrinkles, this thy goulden time. But if thou live, rememb’red not to be, Die single, and thine image dies with thee. And that unfaire which fairely doth excell: @B) @ For never-resting time leads summer on To hidious winter, and confounds him there; Sap checkt with frost, and lustie leaves quite gon, Beauty ore-snow’d, and barenes every where: Then, were not summers distillation left, A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glasse, Beauties effect with beautie were bereft, Nor it, nor noe remembrance what it was: But flowers distil’d, though they with winter meete, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet. Vi IV. gNTHRIFTY » HEN let not winters wragged hand deface loveliness, why dost thou spend In thee thy summer, ere thou be distil’d: Make sweet some viall; treasure thou some place ZY) Upon thy selfe thy beauties legacy? ) Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, S And being franck, she lends to those are free. Then, beautious nigard, why doost thou abuse The bountious largesse given thee to give? Profitles userer, why doost thou use So great asumme of summes, yet can’st not live? For having traffike with thy selfe alone, Thou of thy selfe thy sweet selfe dost deceave. Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, What acceptable audit can’st thou leave? Thy unus’d beauty must be tom’b with thee, Which, used, lives th’executor to be. 118 aes ) With beauties treasure, ere it be selfe-kil’d. That use is not forbidden usery, Which happies those that pay the willing lone; That’s for thy selfe to breed another thee, Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; Ten times thy selfe were happier then thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigur’d thee: Then, what could death doe if thou should’st depart, Leaving thee living in posterity? 2 ! Be not self-wil’d, for thou art much too faire To be deaths conquest and make wormes thine heire. VII. Q LC ‘F (YARZROE, in the orient when the 1D.€ gracious light Lifts up his burning head, a bese “i Di) Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, UD Serving with lookes his sacred majesty; And having climb’d the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortall lookes adore his beauty still, Attending on his goulden pilgrimage; But when from high-most pich, with wery car, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, The eyes (fore dutious) now converted are From his low tract, and looke an other way: So thou, thy selfe out-going in thy noon, Unlok’d on diest, unlesse thou get a sonne. VIII. > SS a i a a USICK to heare, why hear’st thou musick sadly? : WZ Sweets with sweets warre not, joy delights in joy. MCSE Why lov’st thouthat which thou receav ’st not gladly, Or else receav’st with pleasure thine anno y? If the true concord of well-tuned sound s, By unions married, do offend thine eare, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singlenesse the parts that thou should’st beare. Marke how one string, sweet husband to an other, Strikes each in each by mutuall orde ring; Resembling sier and child and happ y mother, Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechlesse song, being many, seeming one, Sing s this to thee: Thou single wilt prov e none. 120 %4S it for feare to wet a widdowes eye, i, That thou consum’st thy selfe in single life? 24) Ah! if thou issulesse shalt hap to die, (YA The world will waile thee, like a makelesse wife; The world wil be thy widdow, and still weepe That thou no forme of thee hast left behind, When every privat widdow well may keepe, By childrens eyes, her husbands shape in minde. Looke, what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place, for still the world injoyes it; But beauties waste hath in the world an end, And, kept unusde, the user so destroyes it. No love toward others in that bosome sits, That on himselfe such murd’rous shame commits. X. Ta OR shame! deny that thou bear’st love to any Who for thy selfe art so unprovident. ¢(7¥ Graunt, if thou wilt, thou art belov’d of many, But that thou none lov’st is most evident; For thou art so possest with murd’rous hate, : That ’gainst thy selfe thou stick’st not to conspire, Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate, Which to repaire should be thy chiefe desire. O, change thy thought, that I may change my minde! Shall hate be fairer log’d then gentle love? Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, Or to thy selfe at least kind-harted prove; Make thee an other selfe, for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. cen WHER XI. XIII. THAT you were your selfe! but, love, you are CAV ZAS fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st yung In one of thine, from that which thou departest; ANY } Db) No longer yours then you your selfe here live; ) And that fresh bloud which yongly thou bestow’st, {QO% Thoumaist call thine, when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdome, beauty, and increase; Without this, follie, age, and could decay; If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescoore yeare would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featurelesse, and rude, barrenly perrish: Looke, whom she best indow’d she gave the more; Which bountious guift thou shouldst in bounty cherrish; She carv'd thee for her seale,and ment therby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that coppy die. WAZ Against this cumming end you should prepare, And your sweet semblance to some other give; So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination; then you were Your selfe again, after your selfes decease, When your sweet issue your sweet forme should beare. Who lets so faire a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winters day And barren rage of deaths eternall cold? O none but unthrifts! Deare my love, you know You had a father: let your son say so. XII. . XIV. iin ene WG OT from the stars do I my judgement plucke; 24 | And yet me thinkes I have astronomy, M When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopie the herd, And sommer’s greene all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard; Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must goe, Since sweets and beauties do them-selves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow; And nothing ’gainst Times sieth can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence. 122 ~4=) >~-/8_§ But not to tell of good or evil lucke, , or seasons quallity; s, of dearths Of plague Nor can I fortune to breefe mynuits tell; Pointing to each his thunder, raine and winde, Or say with princes if it shal go wel, By oft predict that lin heaven finde: _ But from thine eies my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars,in them I read such art, As Truth and Beautie shal together thrive, If from thy selfe to store thou wouldst convert; Or else of thee this I prognosticate: Thy end is Truthes and Beauties doome and date. me \YPUURLUD' La ow aa XV. PAN S93 AY a Holds in perfection but a little moment, Wyre Uhat this huge stage presenteth nought but showes OMB 6 HEN I consider every thing that growes AZ) W hereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as plants increase, XVII. of HO will beleeve my verse in time to come, A [fit were fil’d with your most high deserts? ™ hough yet, heaven knowes, it is but as a tombe Z% Which hides your life, and shewes not halfe your parts. And wear their brave state out of memory; IfI could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say: This poet lies; Such heavenly touches nere toucht earthly faces. To change your day of youth to sullied night; Be scorn’d, like old men of lesse truth then tongue, And your true rights be termed a poets rage, And stretched miter of an antique song: Cheared and checkt even by the selfe-same skie; Vaunt in their youthfull sap, at height decrease, Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wastfull Time debateth with Decay, And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I ingraft you new. XVI. UT wherefore do not you a mightier waie wf) Make warre uppon this bloudie tirant, Time? ] And fortifie your selfe in your decay With meanes more blessed then my barren rime? Now stand you on the top of happie houres, And many maiden gardens, yet unset, With vertuous wish would beare your living flowers Much liker then your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repaire , Which this, Times pensel, or my pupill pen, Neither in inward worth nor outward faire, Can make you live your selfe in eies ofmen, To give away your selfe, keeps your selfe still; And you must live, drawne by your owne sweet skill. 124 So should my papers, yellowed with their age, But were some childe of yours alive that time, You should live twise; in it,and in my rime. XVIII. HALL I compare thee to a summers day? 2 ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate: ) Rough windes do shake the darling buds of Maie, €& And sommers lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every faire from faire some-time declines, By chance, or natures changing course untrim’d: But thy eternall sommer shall not fade, Nor loose possession of that faire thou ow’st, Nor shall Death brag thou wandr’st in his shade, When in eternall lines to time thou grow’st; So long as men can breath, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. XIX. Yh) EV OURING ie Time, blunt thou the lyons pawes, And make the earth devoure her owne sweet brood; Sf Plucke the keene teeth from the fierce tygers jawes, And burne the long-liv’d phenix in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet’st, And do what ere thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one most hainous crime: O carve not with thy howers my loves faire brow, Nor draw noe lines there with thine antique pen; Him in thy course untainted doe allow, For beauties patterne to succeding men. Yet, doe thy worst, ould Time: dispight thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. XX. Cy WES ey,2 ‘ay \ a2 re ZA) PIO. XXI. WOMAN'S face, with natures owne hand painted, Hast thou the master-mistris of my passion; A womans gentle hart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false womens fashion; An eye more bright then theirs, lesse false in rowling, Gilding the object where-upon it gazeth; A man in hew, all Hews in his controwling, Which steales mens eyes and womens soules amaseth. And for a woman wert thou first created; Till nature as she wrought thee, fell a-dotinge, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prickt thee out for womens pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy loves use their treasure. 126 >| EY; O is it not with me as with that muse, “a Stir’d by a painted beauty to his verse, W Who heaven it selfe for ornament doth use, OPA And every faire with his faire doth reherse, Making a coopelment of proud compare, With sunne and moone, with earth and seas rich gems, With Aprills first-borne flowers, and all things rare That heavens ayre in this huge rondure hems. O, let me, true in love, but truly write, And then beleeve me, my love is as faire As any mothers childe, though not so bright As those gould candells fixt in heavens ayer: Let them say more that like of heare-say well; I will not prayse, that purpose not to sell. XXII. Y glasse shall not perswade me I am ould, A So long as youth and thou are of one date; <A But when in thee times forrowes I behould, E_ Then look I death my daies should expiate. For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemely rayment of my heart, Which in thy brest doth live, as thine in me: How can I then be elder then thou art? O, therefore, love, be of thy selfe so wary, As I, not for my selfe, but for thee will; Bearing thy heart, which I will keepe so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. _ Presume not on thy heart when mine is slaine; Thou gav’st me thine, not to give backe againe. XXIII. XXV. El \VA_445S an unperfect actor on the stage, hey MSG Who vith his feare is put belies his part, a ZA Or some fierce thing repleat with too much rage, Y_ BO % Whose strengths abondance weakens his owne heart; So I, for feare of trust, forget to say The perfect ceremony of loves right, And in mine owne loves strength seeme to decay, Ore-charg’d with burthen of mine owne loves might. O let my books be then the eloquence And domb presagers of my speaking brest; Who pleade for love, and look for recompence, More then that tonge that more hath more exprest. O learne to read what silent love hath writ: To heare with eies belongs to loves fine wit. 4 avery Sean 1 DS" Unlookt for joy in that I honour most. Great princes favorites their faire leaves spread But as the marygold at the suns eye, And in them-selves their pride lies buried, For at a frowne they in their glory die. The painefull warrier famosed for fight, After a thousand victories once foil’d, Is from the booke of honour rased quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d: Then happy I, that love and am beloved Where I may not remove, nor be removed. XXIV. To finde where your true image pictur’d lies, Which in my bosomes shop is hanging stil, That hath his windowes glazed with thine eyes. Now see what good-turnes eyes for eies have done; Mine eyes have drawne thy shape, and thine for me Are windowes to my brest, where-through the sun Delights to peepe, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want, to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the hart. 128 mY XXVI. Gia INE eye hath play’d the painter and hath steel’d PZ Thy beauties forme in table of my heart; ZA My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, ES And perspective it is best painters art. For through the painter must you see his skill, ET those who are in favor with their stars, Of publike honour and proud titles bost, Whilst I, whome fortune of such tryumph bars, 4 ORD of my love,to whom in vassalage § Thy merrit hath my dutie strongly knit, A\ 'T'o thee I send this written ambassage, To witnesse duty, not to shew my wit: at, which wit so poore as mine May make seeme bare,in wanting words to shew it; But that I hope some good conceipt of thine In thy soules thought, all naked, will bestow it; Til whatsoever star that guides my moving, Points on me gratiously with faire aspect, And puts apparrell on my tottered loving, To show me worthy of thy sweet respect; Then may I dare to boast how I doe love thee, Til then, not show my head where thou maist prove 7" k = stk: 18 is XXVII. = AY , XXIX. Ts EARY with toyle,I hast me to my bed, HEN in disgrace with Fortune and mens eyes, 7 [all alone beweepe my out-cast state, A The deare repose for lims with travaill tired; ¥e~ But then begins a journy in my head A To worke my mind, when boddies works expired. en my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zelous pilgrimage to thee, And keepe my drooping eye-lids open wide, Looking on darknes which the blind doe see: Save that my soules imaginary sight Presents their shaddoe to my sightles view, Which, like ajewell hunge in gastly night, Makes blacke night beautious, and her old face new. Loe, thus, by day my lims, by night my mind, For thee, and for my selfe, noe quiet finde. “3 And trouble deafe heaven with my bootlesse cries, RZ» And looke upon my selfe, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featur’d like him, like him with friends possest, Desiring this mans art, and that mans skope, With what I most injoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts my selfe almost despising, Haplye I thinke on thee, and then my state, Like to the larke at breake of daye arising From sullen earth, sings himns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love rememb’red, such welth brings, That then I skorne to change my state with kings. aT" ‘ XXVIII. a Wis eyqj OW can I then returne in happy plight, ) That am debar’d the t of rest? a When daies oppressionbenefi is not eaz’d by night, Ky 2 ras And Doe The How I tell And But day by night, and night by day, oprest; each, though enimes to ethers raigne, in consent shake hands to torture me, one by toyle, the other to complaine far I toyle, still farther off from thee? the day, to please him, thou art bright, do’st him grace when clouds doe blot the heaven : So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night; When sparkling stars twire not, thou guild’st th’ eaven. But day doth daily draw my sorrowes longer, And night doth nightly make greefes length seeme stronger. 130 XXX Aves HEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought AY a VT f I sommon up remembrance of things past, L Nave I sigh the lacke of many a thing I sought, RZ And with old woes new waile my deare times waste: Then can I drowne an eye, un-us’d to flow, For precious friends hid in deaths dateles night, And weepe a fresh loves long since cancel’d woe, And mone th’ expence of many a vannisht sight: Then can I greeve at greevances fore-gon, And heavily from woe to woe tell ore The sad account of fore-bemoned mone, Which I new pay, as if not payd before. But if the while I thinke on thee, deare friend, All losses are restor’d, and sorrowes end. k2 > MOCCh 1 0 ke? XXXII. XXXII. HY bosome is indeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead; And there raignes love, and all loves loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. ane How many a holy and obsequious teare Hath deare religious love stolne from mine eye, As interest of the dead, which now appeare But things remov’d, that hidden in thee lie! Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, Hung with the tropheis of my lovers gon, Who all their parts of me to thee did give; That due of many now is thine alone: Their images I lov’d I view in thee, And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. EL) ULL many a glorious morning have I seene ns Flatter the mountaine tops with soveraine eie, EG\2 62) Kissing with golden face the meddowes greene SREB) Guilding pale streames with heavenly alcumy: Anon permit the basest cloudes to ride With ougly rack on his celestiall face, And from the for-lorne world his visage hide, Stealing unseene to west with this disgrace: Even so my sunne one early morne did shine, With all triumphant splendor on my brow; But, out, alack! he was but one houre mine, The region cloude hath mask’d him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may staine, when heaven’s sun staineth. yyy ee! eee XXXII. ce” F ae me (my F thou survive my well-contented daie, When that churle Death my bones with dust shall cover, © a And shalt by fortune once more re-survay [WA These poore rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bett’ring of the time, And though they be out-stript by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rime, Exceeded by the hight of happier men. Oh then voutsafe me but this loving thought: Had my friends muse growne with this growing age, A dearer birth then this his love had brought, To march in ranckes of better equipage: But since he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their stile Ile read, his for his love. 132 XXXIV. HY didst thou promise such a beautious day, A And make me travaile forth Fed To let bace clouds ore-take Hiding thy brav’ry in their Tis not enough that through the cloude without my cloake, me in my way, rotten smoke? thou breake To dry the raine on my storme-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speake That heales the wound, and cures not the disgrace: Nor can thy shame give phisicke to my griefe; Though thou repent, yet I have stille the losse, Th’ offenders sorrow lends but weake reliefe To him that beares the strong offenses crosse. Ah, but those teares are pearle which thy love sheds, And they are ritch, and ransome all ill deeds. XXXVII. XXXV. Mea O more bee greev’d at that which thou hast done: \{ # Roses have thornes, and silver fountaines mud; Cloudes and eclipses staine both moone and sunne, Ne. And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespas with compare, My selfe corrupting, salving thy amisse, Excusing thy sins more then thy sins are; For to thy sensuall fault I bring in sence Thy adverse party is thy advocate— And gainst my selfe a lawfull plea commence: Such civill war is in my love and hate, That I an accessary needs must be To that sweet theefe which sourely robs from me. RCS S a decrepit father takes delight te j Wb \ie To see his active child do deeds of youth, AS) So I, made lame by Fortunes dearest spight, Y WE Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth; For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, Or any of these all, or all, or more, Intitled in thy parts, do crowned sit, I make my love ingrafted to this store: So then I am not lame, poore, nor dispis’d, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a part of all thy glory live. Looke, what is best, that best I wish in thee; This wish I have; then ten times happy me! XXXVIII. XXXVI. ET me confesse that we two must be twaine, Although our undevided loves are one: Hf So shall those blots that do with me remaine, Without thy helpe, by me be borne alone. loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a seperable spight, Which though it alter not love’s sole effect, Yet doth it steale sweet houres from loves delight. I may not ever-more acknowledge thee, Least my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with publike kindnesse honour me, Unlesse thou take that honour from thy name: But doe not so; I love thee in such sort, As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. 134 ts At Va Sa OW can my (ay h While thou | Baa ye‘ S52 Fan SB eS2_$ Muse want subject to invent, dost breath, that poor’st into my verse Thine owne sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse? Oh, give thy selfe the thankes, if ought in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; For who’s so dumbe that cannot write to thee, When thou thy selfe dost give invention light? Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth Then those old nine which rimers invocate; And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth Eternal numbers to out-live long date. If my slight Muse doe please these curious daies, The paine be mine, but thine shal be the praise. U2. XXXIX. ay H, how thy worth with manners may I singe, Byes ; When thou art all the better part of me? d Whatcan mineowne praise to mine owne selfe bring? $84 And what is’t but mine owne when I praise thee? Even for this let us devided live, And our deare love loose name of single one, That by this That due to Oh absence, Were it not seperation I may give thee which thou deserv’st alone. what a torment wouldst thou prove, thy soure leisure gave sweet leave To entertaine the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, And that thou teachest how to make one twaine, By praising him here who doth hence remaine. XL. ) AKE all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more then thou hadst before? ( No love, my love, that thou maist true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam’d, if thou thy selfe deceavest By wilfull taste of what thy selfe refusest. I doe forgive thy robb’rie gentle theefe, Although thou steale thee all my poverty: And yet, love knowes, it is a greater griefe To beare love’s wrong, then hates knowne injury. Lascivious grace,in whom all il wel showes, Kil me with spights; yet we must not be foes. 136 XLI. HOSE pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am some-time absent from thy heart, ¢ Thy beautie and thy yeares full well befits, For still temptation followes where thou art. Gentle thou art, therefore to be wonne, Beautious thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what womans sonne Will sourely leave her till she have prevailed? Aye me! but yet thou mightst my feate forbeare, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their ryot even there Where thou art forst to breake a twofold truth, Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee, Thine, by thy beautie beeing false to me. XLII. VirO0! tient HAT thou hast her, it is not all my griefe, And yet it may be said I lov’d her deerely; ¢ That she hath thee, is of my wayling cheefe, ee) A losse in love that touches me more neerely. Loving offendors, thus I will excuse yee: Thou doost love her, because thou knowst I love her; And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suffring my friend for my sake to approove her. IfI loose thee, my losse is my loves gaine, And loosing her, my friend hath found that losse; Both finde each other, and I loose both twaine, And both for my sake lay on me this crosse: But here’s the joy; my friend and I are one; Sweete flattery! then she loves but me alone. XLIII. § J HEN most I winke, then doe mine eyes best see, EAA For all the day they view things unrespected; ce Wren But when I sleepe, in dreames they looke on thee, ." R77 And, darkely bright, are bright in darke directed. Then thou, whose shaddow shaddowes doth make bright, How would thy shadowes forme forme happy show To the cleere day with thy much cleerer light, When to un-seeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would,I say, mine eyes be blessed made, By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy faire imperfect shade Through heavy sleepe on sightlesse eyes doth stay! All dayes are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright daies when dreames do shew thee me. XLIV. YF the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; y) For then, dispight of space, I would be brought, oP) From limits farre remote, where thou doost stay. No matter then although my foote did stand Upon the farthest earth remoov’d from thee; For nimble thought can jumpe both sea and land As soone as thinke the place where he would be. But ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought, To leape large lengths of miles when thou art gone, But that, so much of earth and water wrought, I must attend times leasure with my mone; Receiving naught by elements so sloe But heavie teares, badges of either’s woe. 138 XLV. HE other two, slight ayre and purging fire, Are both with thee, where ever I abide; + The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide; For when these quicker elements are gone In tender embassie of love to thee, i My life, being made of foure, with two alone Sinkes downe to death, opprest with melancholie; Until live’s composition be recured By those swift messengers return’d from thee, Who even but now come back againe, assured Of thy faire health, recounting it to me: This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, I send them back againe, and straight grow sad. XLVI. (INE eye and heart are ata mortall warre, How to devide the conquest of thy sight, fi. barre, ZA, Mine eye, my heart thy pictures sight would ES My heart, mine eye the freedome of that right. My heart doth plead that thou in him doost lye, A closet never pearst with christall eyes, But the defendant doth that plea deny, And sayes in him thy faire appearance lyes. To’cide this title is impannelled all tenants to the heart; A quest of thoughts, And by their verdict is determined The cleere eyes moyitie, and the deare hearts part: As thus; mine eyes due is thine outward part, And my hearts right, thine inward love of heart. XLVII. PET A WIXT mine eye and heart a league is tooke, WEG =P And each doth good turnes now unto the other: ay) When that mine eye is famisht for a looke, SIND Or heart in love with sighes himselfe doth smother, With my loves picture then my eye doth feast, And to the painted banquet bids my heart; An other time mine eye is my hearts guest, And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: So, either by thy picture or my love, Thy selfe away art present still with me; For thou nor farther then my thoughts canst move, And Iam still with them, and they with thee; Or if they sleepe, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart’s and eye’s delight. GAINST that time, if ever that time come, wy, ab ej When I shall see thee frowne on my defects, p, AY When as thy love hath cast his utmost summe, Y Cal’d to that audite by advis’d respects; WSO % Against that time when thou shalt strangely passe, And scarcely greete me with that sunne, thine eye, When love, converted from the thing it was, Shall reasons finde of setled gravitie; Against that time do I insconce me here Within the knowledge of mine owne desart, And this my hand against my selfe upreare, To guard the lawfull reasons on thy part: To leave poore me thou hast the strength of lawes, Since, why to love, I can alledge no cause. XLVIII. Pa? | OW carefull was I, when I tooke my way, NE, L. x OW heavie doe I journey oy on the way, | au.) Each trifle under truest barres to thrust, Zw . That to my use it might un-used stay ESS From hands of falsehoodin , sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, The beast that beares me, tired with my woe, Thou, best of deerest,and mine onely care, Plods dully on, to beare that waight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know Most worthy comfort, now my greatest griefe, Art left the prey of every vulgar theefe. Thee have I not lockt up in any chest, Save where thou art not, though I feele thou art, Within the gentle closure of my brest, From whence at pleasure thou maist come and part; And even thence thou wilt be stolne, I feare, For truth prooves theevish for a prize so deare. 140 a aS h When what I seeks vay ene travels end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say: VES | Thus farre the miles are measured from thy friend! His rider lov’d not speed being made from thee: The bloody spurre cannot provoke him on That some-times anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a grone, More sharpe to me then spurring to his side; For that same grone doth put this in my mind, My greefe lies onward, and my joy behind. ANCE 1G feeai LIII. El. HUS can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou art, why should I hast me thence? Till I returne, of posting is noe need. O, what excuse will my poore beast then find, When swift extremity can seeme but slow? Then should I spurre, though mounted on the wind, In winged speed no motion shall I know: Then can no horse with my desire keepe pace; Therefore desire, of perfect’st love being made, Shall naigh, noe dull flesh, in his fiery race; But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; Since from thee going, he went wilfull slow, Towards thee Ile run, and give him leave to goe. Mine titer ene HAT is your substance, whereof are you made, FAA That millions of strange shaddowes on you tend? °° @ Since every one hath, every one, one shade, kZ® And you, but one,can every shaddow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfet Is poorely immitated after you, On Hellens cheeke all art of beautie set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new: Speake of the spring and foyzon of the yeare, The one doth shaddow of your beautie show, The other as your bountie doth appeare; And you in every blessed shape we know. In all externall grace you have some part, But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV. LIT. O am [as the rich, whose blessed key 2 Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, ) The which he will not ev’ry hower survay, For blunting the fine point of seldome pleasure. Therefore are feasts so sollemne and so rare, Since, seldom comming, in the long yeare set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captaine jewells in the carconet. So is the time that keepes you as my chest, Or as the ward-robe which the robe doth hide, To make some speciall instant speciall blest, By new unfoulding his imprison’d pride. Blessed are you, whose worthinesse gives skope, Being had, to tryumph, being lackt, to hope. 142 C18 H how much more doth beautie beautious seeme, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! KA The rose lookes faire, but fairer we it deeme ey \A For that sweet odor, which doth in it live. The canker-bloomes have full as deepe a die, As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thornes, and play as wantonly When sommers breath their masked buds discloses: But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo’d, and unrespected fade; Die to themselves. Sweet roses doe not so; Of their sweet deathes are sweetest odors made: And so of you, beautious and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distils your truth. LVIL. LV. SOEING your slave, what Net OT marble, nor the guilded monuments Of princes, shall out-live this powrefull rime; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Then unswept stone, besmeer’d with sluttish time. When wastefull warre shall statues over-turne, And broiles roote out the worke of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor warres quick fire shall burne The living record of your memory. *Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmit Shall you pace forth; your praise shal stil finde roome, Even in the eyes of all posterity That weare this world out to the ending doome. So, til the judgement that your selfe arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers eies. Mw.) 2D So, love, be thou; although too-daie thou fill Thy hungrie eies even till they winck with fulnesse, Too morrow see againe, and doe not kill The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness: Let this sad int’rim like the ocean be Which parts the shore, where two contracted new, Come daily to the banckes, that, when they see Returne of love, more blest may be the view; Or cal it winter, which, being ful of care, Makes sommers welcome, thrice more wish’d, more rare. 144 | have no precious time at al to spend, Nor services to doe, til you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end houre, Whilst I, my soveraine, watch the clock for you, Nor thinke the bitternesse of absence sowre, When you have bid your servant once adieue; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affaires suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and thinke of nought, Save, where you are how happy you make those. So true a foole is love, that in your Will, Though you doe any thing, he thinkes no ill. LVIII. LVI. WEET love, renew thy force; be it not said gz Thy edge should blunter be then apetite, aN ) Which but too-daie by feeding is alaied, GP & To morrow sharp’ned in his former might: should I doe but tend ~saf) U pon the houres and times of your desire? 2 ; () HAT God forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought controule your times of pleasure, Se Or at your hand th’ account of houres to crave, Being your vassail, bound to staie your leisure! oe Oh, let me suffer, being at your beck, Th’ imprison’d absence of your libertie; And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong That you your selfe may priviledge your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Your selfe to pardon of selfe-doing crime. Tam to waite, though waiting so be hell, be it ill or well. Not blame your pleasure, l a Yates use Ty LIX. ey NY $5) F their bee nothing new, but that which is Wee Po Hath beene before, how are our braines beguild, WY) oy Which, laboring for invention, beare amisse WD ey The second burthen of a former child! Oh, that record could with a back-ward looke, Even of five hundreth courses of the sunne, Show me your image in some antique booke, EX Ce KAAS it thy wil thy image should keepe open Ys My Laila eiclids to the weary night? WG uy Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, ( wo) While shadowes like to thee do mocke my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee So farre from home into my deeds to prye, To find out shames and idle houres in me, Since minde at first in carrecter was done. The skope and tenure of thy jelousie? To this composed wonder of your frame; Whether we are mended, or where better they, O no! thy love, though much, is not so great: It is my love that keepes mine eie awake; Mine owne true love that doth my rest defeat, That I might see what the old world could say Or whether revolution be the same. To plaie the watch-man ever for thy sake: To subjects worse have given admiring praise. From me farre of, with others all to neere. Oh, sure I am, the wits of former daies For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, LX. WPYQIKE as the waves make toward the pibled shore, in So do our minuites hasten to their end: | wee Each changing place with that which goes before, LIED In sequent toile all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the maine of light, Crawles to maturity, wherewith being crown’d 3 Crooked eclipses ’gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfixe the florish set on youth And delves the paralels in beauties brow Feedes on the rarities of natures truth, And nothing stands but for his sieth to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, een worth, dispight his cruell hand. 14. LXII. >| 9 INNE of selfe-love possesseth al mine eie, Andall my soule, and al my every part; NIQ)) And for this sinne there is no remedie, a») It is so grounded inward in my heart. Me thinkes no face so gratious is as mine, No shape so true, no truth of such account; And for my selfe mine owne worth do define, As Tall other in all worths surmount. But when my glasse shewes me my selfe indeed, Beated and chopt with tan’d antiquitie, Mine owne selfe love quite contrary I read; Selfe so selfe-loving were iniquity. y Tis thee, my selfe, that for my selfe I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy daies. l2 vyyeoreee LXIII. We LXV. GAINST my love shall be, as I am now, ey ed With Times injurious hand chrusht and ore-worne; ra When houres have drein’d his blood and fil’d his brow VYBO. % With lines and wrincles; when his youthfull morne Hath travaild on to age’s steepie night; And all those beauties whereof now he’s king Are vanishing or vanisht out of sight, Stealing away the treasure of his spring; For such a time do I now fortifie Against confounding Ages cruell knife, That he shall never cut from memor My sweet loves beautie, though my lovers life: His beautie shall in these blacke lines be seene, And they shall live, and he in them still greene. We/g/z7 A UG) SPOPA INCE brasse, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundlesse sea, But sad mortality ore-swaies their power, How with this rage shall beautie hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger then a flower? O, how shall summers hunny breath hold out, Against the wrackfull siedge of batt’ring dayes, When rocks impregnable are not so stoute, Nor gates of steele so strong, but Time decayes? O fearefull meditation! where, alack, Shall Times best jewell from Times chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foote back? Or who his spoile of beautie can forbid? O,none, unlesse this miracle have might, That in black inck my love may still shine bright. me LXIV. eene by Times fell hand defaced The rich-proud cost of outworne buried age; % When sometime loftie towers I see downe-rased, And brasse eternall slave to mortal] rage; When I have seene the hungry ocean gaine Advantage on the kingdome of the shoare, And the firme soile win of the wat’ry maine, Increasing store with losse and losse with store; When I have seene such interchange of state, Or state it selfe confounded to decay, Ruine hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death which cannot choose But ~— to have that which it feares to loose. 14 Tilers LXVI. YR’D with all these, for restfull death I cry, As, to behold desert a begger borne, And needie nothing trim’d in jollitie, ) And purest faith unhappily forsworne, And gilded honor shamefully misplast, And maiden vertue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgrac’d, And strength by limping sway disabled, And arte made tung-tide by authoritie, And folly, doctor-like, controuling skill, And simple truth miscalde simplicitie, And captive good attending captaine ill. Tyr’d with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to dye,I leave my love alone. cree ial LXIX. LXVII. HOSE parts of thee that the worlds eye doth view aye Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend: ve s ¥ All toungs, the voice of soules, give thee that due, CS H, wherefore with infection should he live C4 . se And with his presence grace impietie, ij ful a =4 Fa (ZS) That sinne by him advantage should atchive donb lneoiv le Mesichubievboletiet Why should false painting immitate his cheeke, And steale dead seeing of his living hew? Why should poore beautie indirectly seeke Roses of shaddow, since his rose is true? Why should he live, now nature banckrout is, Begger’d of blood to blush through lively vaines? For she hath no excheker now but his, And proud of many, lives upon his gaines. O, him she stores, to show what welth she had In daies long since, before these last so bad. A@ And that, in guesse, they measure by thy deeds; Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eies were kind, To thy faire flower ad the rancke smell of weeds: But why thy odor matcheth not thy show, The soyle is this, that thou doest common grow. LXX. HAT thou art blam’d shall not be thy defect, p) E1US is his cheeke the map of daies out-worne, When beauty liv’d and dy’ed as flowers do now, | Before these bastard signes of faire were borne, Ere beautie’s dead fleece made another gay: Uttring bare truth, even so as foes commend. They looke into the beauty of thy mind, LXVIII. Y/ Or durst inhabit ona living brow; Before the goulden tresses of the dead, The right of sepulchers, were shorne away, To live a second life on second head; XB) Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown d; But those same toungs, that give thee so thine owne, In other accents doe this praise confound By seeing farther then the eye hath showne. For slanders marke was ever yet the faire; The ornament of beauty is suspect, a@ S) A crow that flies in heavens sweetest ayre. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, And thou present’st a pure unstayned prime. In him those holy antique howers are seene, Thou hast past by the ambush of young daies, To shew faulse Art what beauty was of yore. 150 Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts shouldst owe. Without Making Robbing And him all ornament it selfe and true, no summer of an others greene, no ould to dresse his beauty new; as for a map doth Nature store, Either not assayl’d, or victor beeing charg d; Yet this thy praise cannot be soe thy praise, To tye up envy evermore inlarged: If some suspect of ill maskt not thy show, 151 LXXI. Med LXXIII. OE longer mourne for me when I am dead # Then you shall heare the surly sullen bell <@ Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest wormes to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember The hand that writ it; for I love you That I in your sweet thoughts would If thinking on me then should make not so, be forgot, you woe. O, if, I say, you looke upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poore name reherse, But let your love even with my life decay; Least the wise world should looke into your mone, And mocke you with me after I am gon. oe a) HAT time of yeare thou maist in me behold mM ZY \_)\¢ oe S@) Bare ruin’d quiers, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twi-light of such day As after sun-set fadeth in the west; Which by and by blacke night doth take away, Deaths second selfe, that seals up all in rest. In me thou sees’t the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lye, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum’d with that which it was nurrisht by. This thou percev’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. LXXII. Oe ; LEAST the world should taske you to recite What merit liv’d in me that you should love Ye) After my death, deare love, forget me quite, £@ For you in me can nothing worthy prove; Unlesse you would devise some vertuous lye, To doe more for me then mine owne desert, And hang more praise upon deceased I Then nigard truth would willingly impart: O, least your true love may seeme falce in this, That you for love speake well of me untrue, 4% When yellow leaves, or none, or few doe hange Upon those boughes which shake against the could, LXXIV. \|A AY ‘AS 9 UT be contented: when that fell arest Without all bayle shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. When thou revewest this, thou doest revew, The very part was consecrate to thee: The earth can have but earth, which is his due; My spirit is thine, the better part of me: So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The pray of wormes, my body being dead; My name be buried where my body is, The coward conquest ofa wretches knife, For [am sham’d by that which I bring forth, Too base of thee to be remembered. The worth of that, is that which it containes, And live no more to shame nor me nor you. And so should you, to love things nothing worth . 152 And that is this, and this with thee remaines. LXXV. LXXVII. HY glasse will shew thee how thy beauties were, O are you to my thoughts as food to life, B2 Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground; ) And for the peace of you I hold such strife ey As ’twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an injoyer, and anon Doubting the filching age will steale his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better’d that the world may see my pleasure: Some-time all ful with feasting on your sight, Thy dyall how thy pretious mynuits waste; The vacant leaves thy mindes imprint will beare, o@e K@®) And of this booke, this learning maist thou taste. The wrinckles which thy glasse will truly show, Of mouthed graves will give thee memorie; Thou by thy dyals shady stealth maist know Time’s theevish progresse to eternitie. Looke, what thy memorie cannot containe Commit to these waste blancks, and thou shalt finde And by and by cleane starved for a looke; Those children nurst, deliver'd from thy braine To take a new acquaintance of thy minde. These offices, so oft as thou wilt looke, Possessing or pursuing no delight Save what is had, or must from you be tooke. Thus do I pine and surfet day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away. Shall profit thee and much inrich thy booke. LXXVIII. LXXVI. 7A SS Ae g HY is my verse so barren of new pride, ib So far han variation or quicke slash Nes ~ Why with the time do I not glance aside RZ To néw-found methods and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keepe invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tel my name, Shewing their birth, and where they did proceed? O know, sweet love,I alwaies write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending againe what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told. 154 Te! ( ASS O oft have I invok’d thee for my Muse, And found such faire assistance in my verse, ANG) As every alien pen hath got my use, GPA And under thee their poesie disperse. Thine eyes, that taught the dumbe on high to sing, And heavie ignorance aloft to flie, Have added fethers to the learneds wing, And given grace a double majestie. Yet be most proud of that which I compile, Whose influence is thine, and borne of thee; In others’ workes thou doost but mend the stile, And arts with thy sweete graces graced be; But thou art all my art,and doost advance As high as learning, my rude ignorance. LXXXI. LXXIX. ‘A eS — J: HILST I alone did call upon thy ayde, Aw Le My verse alone had all thy gentle grace; AWS ny 4 But now my gracious numbers are decay’de, SZ And my sick Muse doth give an other place. I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travaile of a worthier pen; Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent, He robs thee of, and payes it thee againe. He lends thee vertue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beautie doth he give, And found it in thy cheeke: he can affoord No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. Then thanke him not for that which he doth say, Since what he owes thee thou thy selfe doost pay. {SWRI shall live your epitaph to make, BY Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; yy From hence your memory death cannot take, A Although in me each part will be forgotten. from hence immortall life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must dye; The earth can yeeld me but a common grave, When you intombed in mens eyes shall lye. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall ore-read; And toungs to be, your beeing shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead; You still shall live—such vertue hath my pen— Where breath most breaths, even in the mouths of men. LXXXIl. LXXX. HOW I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, =) And in the praise thereof spends all his might But The My On S) To make me toung-tide, speaking of your fame! since your worth, wide as the ocean is, humble as the proudest saile doth beare, sawsie barke, inferior farre to his, your broad maine doth wilfully appeare. Your shallowest helpe will hold me up afloate, Whilst he upon your soundlesse deepe doth ride; Or, being wrackt,I am a worthlesse bote, He of tall building and of goodly pride. Then if he thrive and I be cast away, The a was this; my love was my decay. 15 <9 GRANT thou wert not married to my Muse, pm Hea © a oke And therefore maiest without attaint ore-lo The dedicated words which writers use io) Of their faire subject, blessing every booke. v Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew, Finding thy worth a limmit past my praise, And therefore art infore’d to seeke anew, Some fresher stampe of the time-bettering dayes, And do so, love; yet when they have devisde, What strained touches rhethorick can lend, Thou truly faire wert truly simpathiz’de, In true plaine words by thy true-telling friend. And their grosse painting might be better us’d Where cheekes need blood; in thee it is abus’d. LXXXIII. y NEVER saw that you did painting need, y And therefore to your faire no painting set; I found, or thought I found, you did exceed 4 ‘The barren tender ofa poet’s debt: And therefore have I slept in your report, That you your selfe, being extant, well might show, How farre a moderne quill doth come to short, Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. This silence for my sinne you did impute, Which shall be most my glory, being dombe ; For I impaire not beautie being mute, When others would give life, and bring a tombe . There lives more life in one of your faire eyes Then both your poets can in praise devise. LXXXV. I Y toung-tide Muse in manners holds her still, +e Z While comments of your praise, richly compil d, AGNEA Reserve their character with goulden quill, ES And precious phrase by all the Muses fil’d. I thinke good thoughts, whilst other write good wordes, And, like unlettered clarke still crie Amen To every himne that able spirit affords, In polisht forme of well-refined pen. Hearing you praisd, I say: Tis so, ’tis true; And to the most of praise adde some-thing more; HO is it that sayes most? which can say more, But he that writes of you if,he can tell That you are you, so dignifies his story. Let him but coppy what in you is writ, Not making worse what nature made so cleere, And sucha counter-part shall fame his wit, Making his stile admired every where. You to your beautious blessings adde a curse, Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse. 158 , e LXXXVI. That to his subject lends not some smal] glory; } Though words come hind-most, holds his ranke before. Then others for the breath of words respect, Me for my dombe thoughts, speaking in effect. LXXXxXIV. 4 Then this rich praise,—that you alone are you? ®@ In whose confine immured is the store 7% Which should example where your equall grew. Leane penurie within that pen doth dwell } But that is in my thought, whose love to you, : a 6 AS it the proud full saile of his great verse, f Bound for the prize ofall-to-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearce, 2% Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortall pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compiers by night Giving him ayde, my verse astonished. He, nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors, of my silence cannot boast; I was not sick of any feare from thence. But when your countinance fil’d up his line, Then lackt I matter; that infeebled mine. é : . oe US Voices fae al LXXXVII. \e J§) AREWELL! thou art too deare for my possessing, A And like enough thou know’st thy estimate: &EQP79 Ml The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; (\ Bae: My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that ritches where is my deserving? The cause of this faire guift in me is wanting, And so my pattent back againe is swerving. Thy self thou gav’st, thy owne worth then not knowing, Or mee, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking; So thy great guift, upon misprision growing, Comes home againe, on better judgement making. Thus have I had thee as a dreame doth flatter, In sleepe a king, but waking no such matter. LXXXIX. (‘a2 a ~) UP As Ile my selfe disgrace; knowing thy wil, I will acquaintance stran gle and looke stran ge; Be absent from thy walkes; and in my tongue Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, Least I, too much prophane, should Wha a KC. Ji HEN thou shalt be dispos’de to set me light, A Weza And place my merrit in the eie of skorne, Eve Upon thy side, against my selfe Ile fight, That thou in loosing me shalt win much glory: And I by this wil be a gainer too; For, bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to my selfe I doe, Doing thee vantage, duble-vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right my selfe will beare all wrong . 160 do it wronge, And haplie of our old acquaintance tell, For thee, against my selfe Ile vow debate, For I must nere love him whom thou dost hate. HEN hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; . Now, while the world is bent my deeds to crosse, iY Upon thy part I can set downe a story Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am attainted; & Against thy reasons making no defence. To set a forme upon desired change, A RZ And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworne. And I will comment upon that offence: Speake of my lamenesse, and I straight will halt, Thou canst not, love, disgrace me halfe so ill, LXXXVIII. With mine owne weakenesse being best acquainted, AY that thou didst forsake me for some falt, Joyne with the spight of fortune, make me bow, aN And doe not drop in for an after-losse: Ah, doe not, when my heart hath scapte this sorrow, Come in the rereward ofa conquer’d woe, Give nota windy night a rainie morrow, To linger outa purpos’d over-throw. If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other pettie griefes have done their spight, But in the onset come; so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortunes might; And other straines of woe, which now seeme woe, Compar’d with losse of thee, will not seeme so. m Pre nial XC XCIII. OME glory in their birth, some in their skill, @ Some in their wealth, some in their bodies force; O shall I live, supposing thou art true, ZZ Like a deceived husband; so loves face ) May still seeme love to me, though alter’d new; ) Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill; Some in their hawkes and hounds, some And every humor hath his adjunct pleasure, in their horse; Wherein it findes a joy above the rest: But these perticulers are not my measure; All these I better in one general best. Thy love is better then high birth to me, Richer then wealth, prouder then garments cost, Of more delight then hawkes or horses bee; And having thee, of all mens pride I boast: Wretched in this alone, that thou maist take All this away and me most wretched make. » Thy lookes with me, thy heart in other place: For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In manies lookes, the falce hearts history Is writ in moods and frounes and wrinckles strange, But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; What ere thy thoughts, or thy heart’s workings be, Thy lookes should nothing thence but sweetnesse tell. How like Eves apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet vertue answere not thy show! XCII. ZS XCIV. #9) UT doe thy worst to steale thy selfe away, kJ For tearme of life thou art assured mine; ay, YS And life no longer then thy love will stay, Forit depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to feare the worst of wrongs, oe HEY that have power to hurt, and will doe none, That doe not do the thing they most do showe, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmooved, could, and to temptation slow: They rightly do inherrit heavens graces, When in the least of them my life hath end. I see a better state to me belongs And husband natures ritches from expence; Thou canst not vex me with inconstant minde, Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. The sommers flowre is to the sommer sweet, Happy to have thy love, happy to die! The basest weed out-braves his dignity: Then that which on thy humour doth depend: Oh what a happy title do I finde, But what’s so blessed-faire that feares no blot? Thou maist be falce, and yet I know it not. 162 They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence. Though to it selfe it onely live and die, But if that flowre with base infection meete, For sweetest things turne sowrest by their deedes; Lillies that fester smell far worse then weeds. m2 XeV. ‘ a Doth spot the beautie of thy budding name! — aS | Oh, in what sweets doest thou thy sinnes inclose! That tongue that tells the story of thy daies, Making lascivious comments on thy sport, Cannot dispraise but in a kinde of praise, Naming thy name blesses an ill report. Oh, what a mansion have those vices got Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauties vaile doth cover every blot, And all things turnes to faire that eies can see! XCVII. PaO OW 1 mH.) From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting yeare! like a winter hath my absence beene PAS What freezings have I felt, what darke daies seene! Y BNC | What old Decembers barenesse every where! And yet this time remov’d, was sommers time; The teeming autumne, big with ritch increase, Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime, Like widdowed wombes after their lords decease: Yet this aboundant issue seem’d to me But hope of orphans and unfathered fruite; For sommer and his pleasures waite on thee, And, thou away, the very birds are mute: Take heed, deare heart, of this large priviledge; Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheere The hardest knife ill us’d doth loose his edge. That leaves looke pale, dreading the winters neere. XCVI. XCVIII. OME say thy fault is youth, some wantonesse; Fy ) ROM you have I beene absent in the spring, WY Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; ) Both grace and faults are lov’d of more and lesse: & Thou makst faults graces that to thee resort: As on the finger ofa throned queene The basest jewell will be well esteem’d, So are those errors that in thee are seene To truths translated and for true things deem’d. How many lambs might the sterne wolfe betray, If like a lambe he could his lookes translate! How many gazers mightst thou lead away, If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! But doe not so; I love thee in such sort, As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. 164 When proud-pide Aprill, drest in all his trim, Hath puta spirit of youth in every thing, a heavie Saturne laught and leapt with him. That BACS f .) 44 y Yet nor the laies of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odor and in hew, Could make me any summers story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did I wonder at the lillies white, Nor praise the deepe vermillion in the rose; They weare but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawne after you, you patterne of all those. Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away, As with your shaddow I with these did play. yl oLeaee rage \YHOUN 0 XCIX. on ») ay L) HE forward violet thus did I chide: Sweet theefe,whence didst thou steale thy sweet that smels, 4 If not from my loves breath? The purple pride WS) Which on thy soft cheeke for complexion dwells In my loves veines thou hast too grosely died. The lillie I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjerom had stolne thy haire; The roses fearefully on thornes did stand, One blushing shame, an other white dispaire; A third, nor red nor white, had stolne of both, And to his robb’ry had annext thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengfull canker eate him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or culler it had stolne from thee. C. ASH iN 2 WEA A HERE art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long To speake of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend’st thou thy furie on some worthlesse songe, Dark’ning thy powre to lend base subjects light? Returne, forgetfull Muse, and straight redeeme In gentle numbers time so idely spent; Sing to the eare that doth thy laies esteeme And gives thy pen both skill and argument. Rise, resty Muse, my loves sweet face survay, If Time have any wrincle graven there; If any, be a satire to decay, And make Times spoiles dispised every where. Give my love fame faster then time wasts life; So thou prevent’st his sieth and crooked knife. 166 CL Ce H truant Muse, what shalbe thy amends 3\ For thy neglect of truth in beauty di’d? \ : 24) Both ee beauty on my me depends; ~ A WF So dost thou too, and therein dignifi'd. Make answere, Muse: wilt thou not haply saie, Truth needs no collour, with his collour fixt; Beautie no pensell, beautie’s truth to lay; But best is best, if never intermixt? Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? Excuse not silence so, for’t lies in thee To make him much out-live a gilded tombe And to be prais’d of ages yet to be. Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how To make him seeme long hence as he showes now. CII. Y love is strength’ned though more weake in seeming; ig I love not lesse, though lesse the show appeare; That love is marchandiz’d, whose ritch esteeming KS The owners tongue doth publish every where. Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont to greet it with my laies; As Philomell in summers front doth singe, And stops his pipe in growth of riper daies: ’ Not that the summer is lesse pleasant now Then when her mournefull himns did hush the night, But that wild musick burthens every bow, And sweets growne common loose their deare delight. Therefore, like her,I some-time hold my tongue, Because I would not dull you with my songe. cae CII. CVs ars LACK, what poverty my Muse brings forth, i Ned That having such a skope to show her pride, 4 (ZS) The argument, all bare, is of more worth 23% Then when it hath my added praise beside! Oh blame me not, if I no more can write! Looke in your glasse, and there appeares a face, That over-goes my blunt invention quite, Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace. Were it not sinfull then, striving to mend, To marre the subject that before was well? For to no other passe my verses tend, Then of your graces and your gifts to tell; And more, much more, then in my verse can sit, Your owne glasse showes you, when you looke in it. WAVAET not my love be cal’d idolatrie, at Nor my beloved as an idoll show, ey Since all alike my songs and praises be Y 'To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kinde is my love to-day, to-morrow kinde, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse, to constancie confin’de, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. Faire, kinde, and true, is all my argument, Faire, kinde, and true, varrying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three theams in one, which wondrous scope affords. Faire, kinde, and true, have often liv’d alone. Which three till now, never kept seate in one. CIV. O me, faire friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyde, Such seemes your beautie still. Three winters colde Oe Have from the forrests shooke three summers pride, Three beautious springs to yellow autumne turn’d In processe of the seasons have I seene, Three Aprill perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are greene. 2 Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dyall-hand, Steale from his figure, and no pace perceiv’d; So your sweete hew, which me thinkes still doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceave d: For feare of which, heare this, thou age unbred: Ere you were borne was beauties summer dead. 168 CVI. A J HEN in the chronicle of wasted time AY AA | see discriptions of the fairest wights, And beautie making beautifull old rime ZT In praise of ladies dead and lovelie knights, Then in the blazon of sweet beauties best, Of hand, of foote, of lip, of eye, of brow, / I see their antique pen would have exprest Even such a beauty as you maister now. So all their praises are but prophesies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they look’d but with devining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present dayes, ave eyes to wonder, but lack toungs to praise. 169 CVII. CIX. Yet OT mine owne feares, nor the prophetick soule hd | Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come, ma Can yet the lease of my true love controule, 42 Suppos’de as forfeit to a confin’d doome. The mortall moone hath her eclipse indur’de, And the sad augurs mock their owne presage; Incertenties now crowne them-selves assur’de, And peace proclaimes olives of endlesse age. Now with the drops of this most balmie time My love lookes fresh, and death to me subscribes, Since, spight ofhim, Ile live in this poore rime, While he insults ore dull and speachlesse tribes: And thou in this shalt finde thy monument, When tyrants crests and tombs of brasse are spent. ay ae LC NEVER say that I was false of heart, KAY Though absence seem’d my flame to quallifie. As easie might I from my selfe depart WG, As from my soule, which in thy brest doth lye: That is my home of love; ifI have rang’d, Like him that travels, I returne againe; Just to the time, not with the time exchang’d, So that my selfe bring water for my staine. Never beleeve, though in my nature raign’d All frailties that besiege all kindes of blood, That it could so preposterouslie be stain’d, To leave for nothing all thy summe of good; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. CVIII. : HAT’S in the braine, that inck may character, A Which hath not figur’d to thee my true spirit? ¥en W hat’s new to speake, what new to register, 424 That may expresse my love, or thy deare merit? Nothing sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, I must each day say ore the very same; Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, Even as when first I hallowed thy faire name. So that eternall love in loves fresh case Waighes not the dust and injury of age, Nor gives to necessary wrinckles place, But makes antiquitie for aye his page; Finding the first conceit of love there bred, Where time and outward forme would shew it dead. 170 CX. CHV ZA LAS, ’tis true I have FUAb ZY Anal Noy made my ; gone here and there, selfe a motley to the view, uid mine an Hhioughslectt cheap whatis most deare, ee ZA) Made old offences of affections new; TUN Most true it is that I have lookt on truth Asconce and strangely; but, by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essaies prov’d thee my best of love. Now all is done, have what shall have no end: Mine appetite I nevermore will grinde On newer proofe, to trie an older friend, A god in love, to whom I am confin’d. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving brest. CXI. @ ACN N te FOR my sake doe you with Fortune chide, The guiltie goddesse of my harmfull deeds, ——— oe That did not better for my life provide FAQ) Then publick meanes which publick manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdu’d To what it workes in, like the dyer’s hand: Pitty me then, and wish I were renu’de; Whilst, like a willing pacient,I will drinke Potions of eysell ’gainst my strong infection; No bitternesse that I will bitter thinke, Nor double pennance, to correct correction. Pittie me then, deare friend, and I assure yee Even that your pittie is enough to cure mee. CXII. PA OUR love and pittie doth th’impression fill WIG Which vulgar scandall stampt upon my brow; & For what care I who calles me well or ill, B So you ore-greene my bad, my good alow? You are my all-the-world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tounge; None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steel’d sence or changes right or wrong. In so profound abisme I throw all care Of others voyces, that my adders sence, To cryttick and to flatterer stopped are. Marke how with my neglect I doe dispence; You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world besides methinkes y are dead. 172 CXIII. INCE I left you mine eye is in my minde, Z And that which governes me to goe about Doth part his function, and is partly blind, » Seemes seeing, but effectually is out; For it no forme delivers to the heart Of bird, of flowre, or shape which it doth latch: Of his quick objects hath the minde no part, Nor his own vision houlds what it doth catch; For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight, The most sweet-favor or deformed’st creature, The mountaine, or the sea, the day or night, The croe or dove, it shapes them to your feature: Incapable of more, repleat with you, My most true minde thus maketh mine untrue. CXIVS Sy R whether doth my minde, being crown’d with you, § Drinke up the monarks plague, this flattery? Or whether shall I say: Mine eie saith true, A And that your love taught it this alcumie, To make of monsters and things indigest Such cherubines as your sweet selfe resemble, Creating every bad a perfect best, As fast as objects to his beames assemble? Oh, ’tis the first; ’tis flat’ry in my seeing, — And my great minde most kingly drinkes itup: Mine eie well knowes what with his gust is ’greeing, And to his pallat doth prepare the cup: Ifit be poison’d, ’tis the lesser sinne i That mine eye loves it and doth first beginne. Ab AW . pools ii wi CXVII. CXV. HOSE lines that I before have writ doe lie, Even those that said I could not love you deerer: Yet then my judgement knew no reason why x My most full flame should afterwards burne cleerer. But reckening Time, whose million’d accidents Creepe in ’twixt vowes, and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beautie, blunt the sharp’st intents, Divert strong mindes to th’ course of alt’ring things; Alas, why, fearing of Times tiranie, Might I not then say: Now I love you best, When I was certaine ore in-certainty, Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow? Wherein I should your great deserts repay, ) Forgot upon your dearest love to call, % Whereto al bonds do tie me day by day; That I have frequent binne with unknown mindes, And given to time your owne deare-purchas’d right; That I have hoysted saile to al the windes Which should transport me farthest from your sight. Booke both my wilfulnesse and errors downe, And on just proofe surmise accumilate; Bring me within the level of your frowne, But shoote not at me in your wakened hate; Since my appeale saies I did strive to proove The constancy and virtue of your love. CXVIII. CXVI. Ky ET me not to the marriage of true mindes « Admit impediments. Love is not love 34 IKE as, to make our appetites more keene, SA) n ever-fixed marke, That lookes on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring barke, Whose worth’s unknowne, although his hight be taken. Love’s not Times foole, though rosie lips and cheeks Within his bending sickles compasse come; Love alters not with his breefe houres and weekes, But beares it out even to the edge of doome. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 174. With eager compounds we our pallat urge; As, to prevent our malladies unseene, @ We sicken to shun sicknesse when we purge; Even so, being full of your nere-cloying sweetnesse, To bitter sawces did I frame my feeding; And sick of wel-fare found a kind of meetnesse To be diseas’d, ere that there was true needing. Thus pollicie in love, t’anticipate The ills that were not, grew to faults assured, And brought to medicine a healthfull state, Which, rancke of goodnesse, would by ill be cured: But thence I learne, and find the lesson true, Drugs poyson him that so fell sicke of you. CXIX. ASRS CXXI. HAT potions have I drunke of Syren teares AyY Distil’d from lymbecks foule as hell within, Wyrm Applying feares to hopes and hopes to feares, #ZY Still loosing when I saw my selfe to win! What wretched errors hath my heart committed, Whilst it hath thought it selfe so blessed never! How have mine eies out of their spheares bene fitted, In the distraction of this madding fever! O benefit of ill! now I find true 9) Ly es IS better to be vile then vile esteemed, 4 When not to be receives reproach of being; And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed Not by our feeling, but by others seeing: For why should others false adulterat eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood? Or on my frailties, why are frailer spies, Which in their wils count bad what I think good? Noe, Iam that I am; and they that levell That better is by evil still made better; And ruin’d love, when it is built anew, Growes fairer then at first, more strong, far greater. So I returne rebukt to my content, At my abuses reckon up their owne: And gaine by ills thrise more then I have spent. All men are bad and in their badnesse raigne. CXX, HAT you were once unkind be-friends mee now, And for that sorrow which I then didde feele Needes must I under my transgression bow, ae K Unlesse my nerves were brasse or hammered steele. For if you were by my unkindnesse shaken As I by yours, y’have past a hell of time; And I, a tyrant, have no leasure taken To waigh how once I suffered in your crime. O, that our night of wo might have rememb’red My deepest sence, how hard true sorrow hits, And soone to you, as you to me, then tend’red The humble salve which wounded bosomes fits! But that your trespasse now becomes a fee; Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransome mee. 176 I may be straight, though they them-selves be bevel; By their rancke thoughtes my deedes must not be shown; Unlesse this generall evill they maintaine, CXXII. HY guift, thy tables, are within my braine Full character’d with lasting memory, + Which shall above that idle rancke remaine, B Beyond all date,even to eternity: Or, at the least, so long as braine and heart Have facultie by nature to subsist; Til each to raz’d oblivion yeeld his part Of thee, thy record never can be mist. That poore retention could not so much hold, Nor need I tallies thy deare love to skore; Therefore to give them from me was I bold, To trust those tables that receave thee more: To keepe an adjunckt to remember thee €re to import forgetfulnesse in mee. n CXXIII. “Yea O! Time, thou shalt not bost that I doe change: Thy pyramyds buylt up with newer might CXXV. a to meI bore the canopy, AWCS‘bs2 ER’T ought & PY 4 With my extern the outward honoring, “4a To me are nothing novell, nothing strange; @S g Or layd great bases for eternity, They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are breefe, and therefor we admire What thou dost foyst upon us that is ould; And rather make them borne to our desire Then thinke that we before have heard them tould. Thy registers and thee I both defie, Not wondring at the present nor the past, For thy records and what we see doth lye, Made more or less by thy continuall hast. This I doe vow, and this shall ever be, I will be true, dispight thy syeth and thee. ¥ Which prove more short then wast or ruining? Haue I not seene dwellers on forme and favor Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, Pittifull thrivors, in their gazing spent? Noe, let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblacion, poore but free, Which is not mixt with seconds, knows no art But mutuall render, onely me for thee. Hence, thou subborn’d informer! a trew soule When most impeacht, stands least in thy controule. CXXIV. 44F my deare love were but the childe of state, ys It might for Fortunes basterd be unfathered, as 7) As subject to Times love, or to Times hate, (OY 4 Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather’d. No, it was buylded far from accident; It suffers not in smilinge pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, Whereto th’ inviting time our fashion calls: It feares not policy, that heriticke, Which workes on leases of short numb’red howers, But all alone stands hugely pollitick, That it nor growes with heat, nor drownes with showres. To this I witnes call the foles of time, Which die for goodnes, who have liv’d for crime. 178 CXXVI. S43 a =) my lovely boy, who in thy power THOU, Doest hould Times fickle glasse, his sickle, hower: Who hast by wayning growne, and therein show’st, S) Thy lovers withering as thy sweet selfe grow’st. If Nature, soveraine mistres over wrack, As thou goest onwards, still will plucke thee backe, She keepes thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace and wretched mynuits kill. Yet feare her, O thou minnion of her pleasure, She may detaine, but not still keepe, her tresure: Her audite, though delay’d, answer’d must be, And her quietus is to render thee. }VEN as the sunne with purple-colour’d face, Had tane his last leave of the weeping morne, Rose-cheekt Adonis hied him to the chace, Hunting he lov’d, but love he laught to scorne: Sick-thoughted Venus makes amaine unto him, And like a bold fac’d suter ginnes to woo him. G i HRISE fairer then my selfe, (thus she began) / The fields chiefe flower, sweet above compare, i Staine to all nimphs, more lovely then a man, iS \ More white, and red, then doves, or roses are: Nature that made thee with her selfe at strife, Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. ’ CZ ‘ OUCHSAFE thou wonder to alight thy steed, gpy And raine his proud head to the saddle bow, Q) If thou wilt daine this favor, for thy meed Wy yy y ( . iy W) cs\ y A485} A thousand honie secrets shalt thou know: Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses, And being set, Ile smother thee with kisses. ‘iy c WCe (cA 4 pa ND yet not cloy thy lips with loth’d sacietie, But rather famish them amid their plentie, (ZW Making them red and pale, with fresh varietie: ZA Y Ten kisses short as one, one long as twentie: A sommers day will seeme an houre but short, Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport. < ITH this she ceazeth on his sweating palme, A The president of pith, and livelyhood, calls it balme, F\ % And trembling & in her passion, P Earths soveraigne salve, to do a goddesse good; Being s o enrag’d, desire doth lend her force, Conegtauly to plucke him from his horse. CXXIX. CXXVII. TIN the ould age blacke was not counted faire, PN H’ expence of spirit in a waste of shame ESTA Or if it weare, it bore not beauties name; ea op . WO . . Is lust in action; and till action, lust ¢ Is perjur’d, murd’rous, blouddy, full of blame, a A But now is blacke beauties successive heire, . And beautie slander’d with a bastard shame: aae K@ Savage, extreame, rude, cruell, not to trust; For since each hand hath put on natures power, Injoy’d no sooner but dispised straight; Fairing the foule with arts faulse borrow’d face, Sweet beauty hath no name,no holy boure, Past reason hunted; and no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swollowed bayt On purpose layd to make the taker mad: Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; But is prophan’d, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistresse eyes are raven blacke, Her eyes so suted, and they mourners seeme At such who, not borne faire, no beauty lack, Sland’ring creation with a false esteeme: Had, having, and in quest to have, extreame; A blisse in proofe, and prov’d a very wo; Before, a joy propos’d; behind, a dreame. Yet so they mourne, becomming of their woe, That every toung saies beauty should looke so. All this the world well knowes; yet none knowes well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. CXXVIII. BE Ae CXXX. (OW oft, when thou, my musike, musike play’st, a te? ) Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds Y mistres eyes are nothing like the sunne; nD The wiry concord that mine eare confounds, Do I envie those jackes that nimble leape, To kisse the tender inward of thy hand, # Currall is farre more red then her lips red, A If snow be white, why then her brests are dun; Eb If haires be wiers, black wiers grow on her head. I have seene roses damaskt, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheekes; At the woods bouldnes, by thee blushing stand. And in some perfumes is there more delight Then in the breath that from my mistres reekes. ‘ad y With ith thy PAKS th v* sweet f fingers, h when thou gently sway st, Whilst my poore lips, which should that harvest reape, To be so tikled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, Ore whome thy fingers walke with gentle gate, Making dead wood more blest then living lips. Since sausie jackes so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kisse. 180 Tlove to heare her speake, yet well I know That musicke hath a farre more pleasing sound: I graunt I never saw a goddesse goe, My mistres, when she walkes, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven! I thinke my love as rare As any she beli’d with false compare. CXXXIII. CXXXI. HOU art as tiranous, so as thou art, Asthose whose beauties proudly make them cruell; For well thou know’st, to my deare doting hart A Thou art the fairest and most precious jewell. Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold, Thy face hath not the power to make love grone: To say they erre I dare not be so bold, Although I sweare it to my selfe alone. And to be sure that is not false I sweare, A thousand grones, but thinking on thy face, One on anothers necke do witnesse bear Thy blacke is fairest in my judgements place, In nothing art thou blacke save in thy deeds, And thence this slaunder, as I thinke, proceeds. CXXXII. HINE cies I love, and they,as pittying me, "4 eK Knowing thy heart torments me with disdaine, + Have put on black, and loving mourners bee, Looking with pretty ruth upon my paine. And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the gray cheeks of th’ east, Not that full starre that ushers in the eaven Doth halfe that glory to the sober west, As those two mourning eyes become thy face: O let it then as well beseeme thy heart To mourne for me, since mourning doth thee grace, And sute thy pitty like in every part. Then will I sweare beauty her self is blacke, And all they foule that thy complexion lacke. 182 i Jy ae) (pet 2 an’ ESHREW that heart that makes my heart to groane For that deepe wound it gives my friend and me! Is’t not ynough sees st fri to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be? Me from my selfe thy cruell eye hath taken, And my next selfe thou harder hast ingrossed: Of him, my selfe, and thee,I am forsaken; A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed. Prison my heart in thy steele bosomes warde, But then my friends heart let my poore heart bale; Who ere keepes me, let my heart be his garde; Thou canst not then use rigor in my jaile: And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. CXXXIV. @lO, now I have confest that he is thine, | a9 And I my selfe am morgag’d to thy will, ) My selfe Ie forfeit,so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous, and he is kinde; He learn’d but suretie-like to write for me, Under that bond that him as fast doth binde. The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, Thou usurer, that put’st forth all to use, And sue a friend came debter for my sake, So him I loose through my unkinde abuse. Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: He paies the whole, and yet am I not free. CXXXVII. CXXXV. HO ever hath her wish, thou .v) GAB 274 To thy sweet will making addition thus. That they behold, and see not what they see? They know what beautie is, see where it lyes, a Wilt thou, whose will is large and spatious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, Why should my heart thinke that a severall plot Which my heart knowes the wide worlds common place? Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, To put faire truth upon so foule a face? In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, And to this false plague are they now transferred. CXXXVIII. CXXXVI. A pe 34 F thy soule check thee that I come so neere, pyyg Sweare to thy ae blind soule that I was thy Will, dy] And will, ehiy-vonde knowes, is iBaibeteditherd: i 4 Thus farre for love, my love-sute, sweet, fullfill. Will will fulfill the treasure of thy love, I, fill it full with wils, and my will one, In things of great receit with ease we proove, Among a number one is reckon’d none: Then in the number let me passe untold, Though in thy stores account I one must be; For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold That nothing me, a some-thing sweet to thee: Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me, for my name is Will. 184 Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes, corrupt by over-partiall lookes, ; Be anchor’d in the baye where all men ride, Why of eyes falsehood hast thou forged hookes, Whereto the judgement of my heart is tide? And in my will no faire acceptance shine? The sea, all water, yet receives raine still, And in aboundance addeth to his store; So thou, beeing rich in Will, adde to thy Will, One will of mine, to make thy large Will more. Let no unkinde, no faire beseechers kill; Thinke all but one, and me in that one, Will. Ve HOU blinde foole, Love, what doost thou to mine eyes, hast thy Will, And Will too boote,and Will in over-plus; Pex More then enough am I that vexe thee still, HEN my love sweares that she is made of truth, I do beleeve her, though I know she lyes, That she might thinke me some untuter d youth, oy Unlearned in the worlds false subtilties. Thus vainely thinking that she thinkes me young, Although she knowes my dayes are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth supprest. But wherefore sayes she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O, loves best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not t’have yeares told: Therefore I lye with her, and she with me, And in our faults by lyes we flattered be. = Wael aa lai CXLI. CXXXIX. ==) Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy toung; %) Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lov’st else-where; but in my sight, Deare heart, forbeare to glance thine eye aside: What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy might Is more then my ore-prest defence can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knowes Her prettie lookes have beene mine enemies; And therefore from my face she turnes my foes, That they else-where might dart their injuries: Yet do not so; but since I am neere slaine, Kill me out-right with lookes, and rid my paine. £34 N =SESS That thy unkindnesse layes upon my heart; Ye But ’tis my heart that loves what they dispise, ae x Dy Oo) Who, in dispight of view,is pleas’d to dote; Nor are mine eares with thy toungs tune delighted; Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensuall feast with thee alone; But my five wits, nor my five sences can Diswade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswai’d the likenesse ofa man, Thy proud hearts slave and vassall wretch to be: Onely my plague thus farre I count my gaine, That she that makes me sinne, awards me paine. CXLII. CXL. OVE is my sinne, and thy deare vertue hate, 9 E wise as thou art cruell; do not presse Abani) j Ay; <a! Least sorrow lend me words, and words expresse IfI might teach thee witte, better it weare, Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; As testie sick-men, when their deaths be neere, No newes but health from their phisitions know; For, ifI should dispaire,I should grow madde, And in my madnesse might speake ill of thee: Now this ill-wresting world is growne so bad, Madde slanderers by madde eares beleeved be. That I may not be so, nor thou belyde, Beare — 186 Aa Hate of my sinne, grounded on sinfull loving: My toung-tide patience with too much disdaine; The manner of my pittie-wanting paine. eyes straight, though thy proud heart goe wide. faith I doe not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; ny y CALL not me to justifie the wrong an = <4 wan y b) O, but with mine, compare thou thine owne state, D7) And thou shalt finde it merrits not reprooving; Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have prophan’d their scarlet ornaments And seal’d false bonds of love as oft as mine, Rob’d others beds revenues of their rents. Be it lawfull I love thee, as thou lov’st those Whome thine eyes wooe as mine importune thee: Roote pittie in thy heart, that when it growes, Thy pitty may deserve to pittied bee. If thou doost seeke to have what thou doost hide, By selfe-example maist thou be denide! CXLITI. VX a Fon aN) PFD OE, as a carefull huswife runnes to catch One of her fethered creatures broake away, Sets downe her babe, and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace, Cries to catch her whose busie care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, CXLV. HOSE lips that Loves owne hand did make Breath’d forth the sound that said: I hate, To me that languisht for her sake: But when she saw my wofull state, XK Ge Straight in her heart did mercie come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was usde in giving gentle dome; Not prizing her poore infants discontent: So run’st thou after that which flies from thee, Whilst I, thy babe, chace thee afarre behind; But if thou catch thy hope, turne back to me, And tought it thus anew to greete; So will I pray that thou maist have thy Will, I hate, from hate away she threw, And play the mothers part, kisse me, be kind: If thou turne back and my loude crying still. I hate, she alterd with an end That follow’d it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend, From heaven to hell is flowne away; And sav’d my life, saying —Not you. CXLIV. A WO loves I have of comfort and dispaire, Which like two spirits do sugjest me still: The better angell is a man right faire, The worser spirit a woman collour’d il. To win me soone to hell, my femall evill, Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a divel, Wooing his purity with her fowle pride. And whether that my angel be turn’d finde Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I gesse one angel in an others hel: Yet this shal I nere know, but live in doubt, Til my bad angel fire my good one out. 188 CXLVI. ule the center of my sinfull earth, ee 7 these rebbell anion that thee array, | poke Dp dearth, \ iD x 4 Why dost thou pine within and suffer ese) Painting thy outward walls so costlie gay? Why so large cost, having so short a 7 Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall wormes, inheritors of this excesse, Eate up thy charge? Is this thy bodies end? Then, soule, live thou upon thy servants losse, And let that pine to aggravat thy store; Buy tearmes divine in selling houres of drosse; be rich no more: Within, be fed, without, So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And death once dead, ther’s no more dying then. 189 CXLVII. Y love is as a feaver, longing still SZ For that which longer nurseth the disease; JA Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’uncertaine sicklie appetite to please. My reason, the phisition to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approove Desire is death, which phisick did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantick-madde with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmens are, At randon from the truth vainely exprest; For I have sworne thee faire, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as darke as night. CXLVIII. Sere i AN ME! what eyes hath Love put in my head, \ Which have no correspondence with true sight! ==) Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, N @ hat censures falsely what they see aright? If that be faire whereon my false eyes dote, What meanes the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Loves eye is not so true as all mens: no, How can it? O, how can Loves eye be true, That is so vext with watching and with teares? No marvaile then, though I mistake my view; The sunne it selfe sees not till heaven cleeres. O cunning Love! with teares thou keep’st me blinde, Least eyes well-seeing thy foule faults should finde. 190 CXLIX. oi A ANST thou, O cruell! say I love thee not, Fe When I against my ehecwih thee pertake? Ce Doe I not thinke on thee, when I forgot (a AMA Am of my selfe, all tirant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I doe call my friend? On whom froun’st thou that I doe faune upon? Nay,if thou lowr’st on me, doe I not spend Revenge upon my selfe with present mone? What merrit do I in my selfe respect, That is so proude thy service to dispise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But, love, hate on, for now I know thy minde; Those that can see, thou lov’st, and I am blind. CL. Sy H, from what powre hast thou this powrefull might 4.9 With insufficiency my heart to sway? ) To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swere that brightnesse doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becomming of things il, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That, in my minde, thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I heare and see just cause of hate? Oh, though I love what others doe abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: Ifthy unworthinesse rais’d love in me, More worthy I to be belov’d of thee. CLIII. CLI. SGA OV E is too young to know what conscience is; @ Yet who knowes not conscience is borne of love? =| Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amisse, @ Least guilty of my faults thy sweet selfe prove: betraying me,I doe betray thou For, My nobler part to my grose bodies treason; My soule doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh staies no farther reason, But rysing at thy name doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poore drudge to be, To stand in thy affaires, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call, Her Love, for whose dear love I rise and fall. CLII. ES N loving thee thou know’st I am forsworne, . . ey But thou art twice forsworne, to me love swearing; a bea In act thy bed-vow broake, and new faith torne, A In vowing new hate after new love bearing. But why of two othes breach doe I accuse thee, we A) BA When I breake twenty! I am perjur’d most; For all my vowes are othes but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost: For I have sworne deepe othes of thy deepe kindnesse, Othes of thy love, thy truth, thy constancie; And, to inlighten thee, gave eyes to blindnesse, Or made them swere against the thing they see; For I have sworne thee faire; more perjur’de I, To swere against the truth so foule a lie! 192 © GN oz UPID laid by his brand and fell asleepe: A maide of Dyans this advantage ona. Ce And his love-kindling fire did quickly steepe @SAAG In 2 could vallie-fountaine of that ground; Which borrow’d from this holie fire of love A datelesse lively heat, still to indure, And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove Against strang malladies a soveraigne cure. But at my mistres eie Loves brand new-fired, The boy for triall needes would touch my brest, I, sick withall, the helpe of Bath desired, And thether hied,a sad distemper’d guest, But found no cure: the bath for my helpe lies Where Cupid got new fire, my mistres eyes. CLIV. HE little Love-God lying once asleepe, 4% Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, y Whilst many nymphes that vow’d chast life to keep, Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand KOS) (= The fayrest votary tooke up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d; And so the generall of hot desire, Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarm’d. This brand she quenched in a coole well by, Which from Loves fire tooke heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthfull remedy For men diseas’d; but I, my mistrisse thrall, Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, Loves fire heates water, water o cooles not love. 19 A, z= ROM UR off a hill whose concave wombe reworded A plaintfull story from a sist’ring vale, My spirrits t’attend this doble voyce accorded, FRAKES Arid down I laid to list the sad-tun’d tale: Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twaine, Storming her world with sorrowes wind and raine. Z A § PON her head a plattid hive of straw, 4742) Which fortified her visage from the sunne, WZ Whereon the thought might thinke sometime it saw AS The carkas ofa beauty spent and donne. Time had not sithed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit; but spight of heavens fell rage, Some beauty peept through lettice of sear’d age. Sy FT did she heave her napkin to her eyne, S38 Which on it had conceited charecters, 7 \) Laund’ring the silken figures in the brine A That seasoned woe had pelleted in teares, And often reading what contents it beares; As often shriking undistinguisht wo, In clamours of all size, both high and low. OME-TIMES her level’d eyes their carriage ride, , gz As they did batt’ry to the spheres intend; re) OO\'¢ } Sometime diverted, their poore balls are tide SsOUP-A To th’orbed earth; sometimes they do extend eery Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and no where fixt, The mind and sight distractedly commixt. ER haire, nor loose, nor ti’d in formall plat, Proclaim’d in her a carelesse hand of pride; For some, untuck’d, descended her shev’d hat, Hanging her pale and pined cheeke beside; Some in her threeden fillet still did bide, And, trew to bondage, would not breake from thence, Though slackly braided in loose negligence. SCS THOUSAND favours from a maund she drew, tte y 6 ee Of amber, christall, and of bedded jet, j rae Which one by one she in a river threw, 236 Y Upon whose weeping margent she was set; Like usery, applying wet to wet, Or monarches hands, that let not bounty fall Where want cries some, but where excesse begs all. Mar { Fea F folded schedulls had she many a one, Which she perus’d,sigh’d, tore,and gave the flud; ‘ CA a * i Crackt many a ring i d gold and bone, of posie CDG Bidding them find their sepulchers in mud; Found yet mo letters sadly pen’d in blood , With sleided silke feate and affectedly Enswath’d, and seal’d to curious secre cy. My ane Inke would This said,in Big a 19 HESE often bath’d she in her fluxi ve eies, And often kist, and often gave to teare; Cried: O false blood! thou register of lies, What unapproved witnes doost thou beare! have seem’d more blacke and damn ed heare! top of rage the lines she rents, so breaking their contents, Cy Hye_44 REVEREND ey i J Wh man that graz’d his cattell ny, Sometime a blusterer, thet the ruffle knew ZA) Of court, of cittie,and had let go by A! The swiftest houres, observed as they flew; Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And, priviledg’d by age, desires to know In breefe, the grounds and motives of her wo. O slides he down uppon his greyned bat, W And comely-distant sits he by her side; y) When hee againe desires her, being satte, OPA Her greevance with his hearing to devide: If that from him there may be ought applied Which may her suffering extasie asswage, Tis promist in the charitie of age. The injury " a = ie TRGB oe Let it of many yal a blasting houre, eee Iam old; Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: I might as yet have bene a spreading flower, Fresh to my selfe, if I had selfe-applyed Love to my selfe, and to no love beside. F9 UT wo is mee! too early I attended KZ A youthfull suit,it was to gaine my gS PF} Of one by natures outwards so commende ; SD That maidens eyes stucke over all his face: Love lackt a dwelling, and made him her place; And when in his faire parts shee didde abide, Shee was new lodg’d, and newly deified. IN ae ee | IS browny locks did hang in crooked curles; UT quickly on this side the verdict went; (= Ym) And every light occasion of the wind EQV if SFS) Upon his lippes their silken parcels hurles. Y NSS t What's sweet to do, to do wil aptly find: Each eye that saw him did inchaunt the minde; For on his visage was in little drawne, What largenesse thinkes in parradise was sawne. @2zZ IS qualities were beautious as his forme, ) For maiden-tongu’d he was, and thereof free; bet eS ) Yet if , men mov’d him, was he such a storme § As oft twixt May and Aprill is to see When windes breath sweet, unruly though they bee. His rudenesse so with his authoriz’d youth, Did livery falsenesse in a pride of truth. PASS EL could hee ride, and often men would say: v WJ A That horse his mettell from his rider takes: gv Proud of subjection, noble by the swaie, R24 W hat rounds, what bounds,what cours e,what stop he makes! ntroversie hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his mannadg by th’ wel-doin g steed. 200 To appertainings and to ornament, 2 Accomplisht in him-selfe, not in his case: All ayds, them-selves made fairer by their place, Can for addicions; yet their purpos’d trimme Peec’d not his grace, but were al grac’d by him. MAL shew of man was yet upon his chinne; His phenix downe began but to appeare, Like unshorne velvet, on that termlesse skin, Whose bare out-brag’d the web it seem’d to were; Yet shewed his visage by that cost more deare; And nice affections wavering stood in doubt If best were as it was, or best without. ate MY) y His reall habitude gave life and grace O on the tip of his subduing tongue gz Allkinde of arguments and question deepe, ) All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep: To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weepe, He had the dialect and different skil, Catching al passions in his craft of will; HAT hee didde in the general bosome reigne Of young, of old; and sexes both inchanted, y To dwel with him in thoughts, or to remaine ewe In personal duty, following where he haunted: Consent’s bewitcht, ere he desire, have granted; And dialogu’d for him what he would say, Askt their own wils, and made their wils obey. ANY there were that did his picture gette, RY SZ cate = To serve their eies,and in it put their mind; Like fooles that in th’ imagination set ES The goodly objects which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign’d; And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them, Then the true gouty land-lord which doth owe them: 201 O many have, that never toucht his hand, 2 Sweetly suppos’d them mistresse of his heart. My wofull selfe, that did in freedome stand, C And was my owne fee-simple, (not in part), What with his art in youth, and youth in art, Threw my affections in his charmed power, Reserv’d the stalke, and gave him al my flower. BET did I not,as some my equals did, MVS Demaund of him, nor being desired, yeelded; NS, Finding my selfe in honour so forbidde, 2S824 With safest distance I mine honour sheelded: Experience for me many bulwarkes builded Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain’d the foile Of this false jewell, and his amorous spoile. FW) UT ah! who ever shun’d by precedent a» The destin’d ill she must her selfe assay? ; i> Or fore’d examples, gainst her owne content, UE’! To put the by-past perrils in her way? Counsaile may stop a while what will not stay: For when we rage, advise is often seene By blunting us to make our wits more keene. Ma OR gives it satisfaction to our blood, fed | That wee must curbe it uppon others proofe, a 7 To be forbod the sweets that seeme so good, For feare of harmes that preach in our behoofe. O appetite, from judgement stand aloofe! The one a pallate hath that needs will taste, Though reason weepe, and cry: It is thy last! 202 \ yy ) OR further I could say: This man’s untrue, i, OK And knew the patternes of his foule beguiling; ES S\ 7-74 Heard where his plants in others orchards grew, TRS Saw how deceits were guilded in his smiling; Knew vowes were ever brokers to defiling; Thought, characters, and words, merely but art, And bastards of his foule adulterat heart. SOG ND long upon these termes I held my citty, Ney pane Lill thus hee ’gan besiege me: Gentle maid, al Y Fe X That’s to ye For feasts of Till now did Have of my suffering youth some feeling pitty, And be not of my holy vowes affraid: sworne, to none was ever said; love I have bene call’d unto nere invite, nor never vow. taal) Love made them not; with acture they may be, TY WEN Where neither party is nor trew nor kind: They sought their shame that so their shame did find; And so much lesse of shame in me remaines, By how much of me their reproch containes. SHC 4 MONG the many that mine eyes have seene, Neo A ji => rae Not one whose flame my hart so much as warmed, Or my affection put to th’ smallest teene, Y BG Or any of my leisures ever charmed: Harme have I done to them, but nere was harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine owne was free, And raign’d, commaunding in his monarchy. aS ZOOKE heare what tributes wounded fancies sent me, € Of palyd pearles, and rubies red as blood: fy Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me Y Of greefe and blushes, aptly understood In bloodlesse white and the encrimson’d mood; Effects of terror and deare modesty, Encampt in hearts, but fighting outwardly. SDB H then advance of yours that phraseles hand, AN b> Whose white weighes downe the airy scale of praise; | peZ—) Take all these similies to your owne command, : Na FZ) Hallowed with sighes that burning lunges did raise: What me, your minister, for you obaies, Workes under you; and to your audit comes Their distract parcells in combined summes. SP PVCAND lo! behold these tallents of their hair, Yio With twisted mettle amorously empleacht, WeeS) I have receay’d wees faire, a from many a several 7 Be Their kind acceptance wepingly beseecht, With th’annexions of faire gems inricht, And deepe-brain’d sonnets that did amplifie Each stones deare nature, worth, and quallity. HE diamond; why twas beautifull and hard, Whereto his invis’d properties did tend; ®%, ; The deepe-greene emrald,in whose fresh regard NS) Weake sights their sickly radience do amend; The heaven-hew’d saphir and the opall blend With objects manyfold; each severall stone, With wit well blazon’d, smil’d or made some mone. Q (YFFZBQO! all these trophies of affections hot, Wasa Of pensiv’d and subdew’d desires the tender, : a H Nature hath charg’d me that I hoord them not, SW But yeeld them up where I my selfe must render, That is,to you, my origin and ender: For these, of force, must your oblations be, Since I their aulter, you enpatrone me. 204 GO! this device was sent me from a nun, ¢ Or sister sanctified of holiest note; Z\ Which late her noble suit in court did shun, 4a Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; For she was sought by spirits of ritchest cote, But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, To spend her living in eternall love. iJ 9 UT oh, my sweet, what labour is’t to leave The thing we have not, mast’ring what not strives? } Paling the place which did no forme receive, Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves; She that her fame so to her selfe contrives, The scarres of battaile ’scapeth by the flight, And makes her absence valiant, not her might. = a8 B H pardon me, in that my boast is true; S\ The accident which brought me to her eie, w@-») Upon the moment did her force subdewe, S) And now she would the caged cloister flie: Religious love put out religions eye: Not to be tempted, would she be enur’d, And now, to tempt all, liberty procur’d. OW mightie then you are, Oh heare me tell! HIS said, his watrie eies he did dismount, Gp.) Vhe broken bosoms that to me belong, AN ws VSS Have emptied all their fountaines in my well, End mine I powre your ocean all amonge: I strong ore them, and you ore me being strong, Must for your victorie us all congest, As compound love to phisick your cold brest. Lp | parts had powre to charme a sacred sunne, a WZ Who disciplin’d, aye dieted in grace, cD 4A Beleev’'d her eies when they t’ assaile begun, = ES All vowes and consecrations giving place. O most potential] love! vowe, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things els are thine. Ass | Whose sightes till then were leavel’d on my face; HEN thou impressest, what are precepts worth A Of stale example? when thou wilt inflame, Pie How coldly those impediments stand forth SB AZ Of wealth of filliall , feare, lawe, kindred, fame? Loves armes are peace, ’gainst rule, *gainst sence, *gainst shame, And sweetens, in the suffring pangues it beares, The alloes of all forces, shockes and feares. ek OW all these hearts that doe on mine depend, 5 4 Feeling it breake, with bleeding groanes they pine, SINS And supplicant, their sighes to you extend , To leave the batt’rie that you make ’gainst mine, ft audience to my sweet designe, And credent soule to that strong-bonded oth, That shall preferre and undertake my troth. 206 Each cheeke a river running from a fount z With brynish currant downe-ward flowed apace: Oh how the channell to the streame gave grace! Who, glaz’d with christall, gate the glowing roses That flame through water which their hew incloses. H father, what a hell of witch-craft lies Nd) In the small orb of one perticular teare? p2S—2} But with the inundation of the eies Ws What rocky heart to water will not weare? What brest so cold that is not warmed heare? Oh cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. WF OR loe! his passion, but an art of craft, Ld Even there resolv’d my reason into teares; e eo There my white stole of chastity I daft, my sober gardes, and civill feares: TROBES Shooke off Appeare to him, as he to me appeares, All melting; though our drops this diffrence bore, ) EG) His poison’d me, and mine did him restore. 4 N him a plenitude of subtle matter, 4 Applied to cautills, all straing formes receives, pa), OF burning blushes, or of weeping water, y) Or sounding paleness; and he takes and leaves, In eithers aptnesse, as it best deceives, To blush at speeches ranck, to weepe at woes, Or to turne white, and sound at tragick showes; WYN) Ii tial HAT nota heart which in his levell came, Could scape the haile of his all-hurting ayme, Shewing faire nature is both kinde and tame; en And vail’d in them, did winne whom he would maime: Against the thing he sought, he would exclaime; When he most burnt in hart-wisht luxurie, He preacht pure maide, and prais’d cold chastitie. (pe) wy) BHT US meerely with the garment ofa Grace, \@)) A) The naked and concealed feind he cover’d, iF fs ¢ [hat th’unexperient gave the tempter place, a Which, like a cherubin, above them hover’d. Who, young and simple, would not be so lover’d? Aye me! I fell; and yet do question make What I should doe againe for such a sake. bay THAT infected moysture of his eye, yh Av O, Revd y O, Ae XK) that false fire which in his cheeke so glow’d, that fore’d thunder from his heart did flye, Qa €4 O, that sad breath his spungie lungs bestowed, O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed, Would yet againe betray the fore-betrayed, And new pervert a reconciled maide! A Hi iia THREE VENUS AND ADONIS SONNETS. She told him stories to delight his eare; She shew’d him favors to allure his eie; To win his hart, she toucht him here and there: Touches so soft still conquer chastitie. But whether unripe yeares did want conceit, Or he refusde to take her figured proffer, The tender nibler would not touch the bait, But smile and jeast at every gentle offer: Then fell she on her backe, faire queen and toward: He rose and ran away; ah foole too froward! Lh CARSE had the sunne dride up the deawy morne, W And scarse the heard gone to the hedge for shade, » A longing tariance for Adonis made Under an osyer growing by a brooke, A brooke where Adon usde to coole his spleene. Hot was the day; she hotter that did looke For his approch, that often there had beene. Anon he comes, and throwes his mantle by, And stood starke naked on the brookes greene brim; The sunne lookt on the world with glorious eie, Yet not so wistly as this queene on him: He, spying her, bounst in, whereas he stood: Oh Jove, quoth she, why p2 was I not a flood? NTE) Nitta Il. 2 Pg AIRE was the morne, when NWA & the faire queeneof love, TO A FAIR ONE DEAD. Y@ol W EET rose, faire flower, untimely pluckt, soon vaded, 224 ¥ a eos TRO Paler for sorrow then her milke-white dove, For Adons sake,a youngster proud and wilde; Her stand she takes upon a steepe-up hill: Anon Adonis comes with horne and hounds; She, silly queene, with more then loves good will, Forbad the boy he should not passe those grounds; Once, quoth she, did I see a faire sweet youth Here in these brakes deepe-wounded with a boare, Deepe in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! See in my thigh, quoth she, here was the sore: She shewed hers; he saw more wounds than one, And blushing fled, and left her all alone. Pluckt in the bud, and vaded in the spring! ) Bright orient pearle, alacke! too timely shaded! € Fair creature, kilde too soon by Deaths sharpe sting: Like a green plumbe that hangs upon a tree, And fals, through winde, before the fall should be. I weepe for thee, and yet no cause I have: For why? thou leftst me nothing in thy will. And yet thou leftst me more then I did crave; For why? I craved nothing of thee still: O yes, deare friend,I pardon crave of thee: Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me. FAIR BUT FALSE. |v. WS) AIRE is my love, but not so faire as fickle, AGE AND YOUTH. e2ny RABBED age and youth cannot live together, ( Pigs Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care: Ve Youth like summer morne, Age like winter weather; Ae t MAW Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Ages breath is short, Youth is nimble, Age is lame: Youth is hot and bold, Age is weake and cold; Youth is wild, and Age is tame. Age,I doe abhor thee, Youth, I doe adore thee, O, my love! my love is young! Age I doe defie thee; Oh sweet shepheard hie thee, For methinks thou staiest too long! \ 5 Ga eA TROBOXS A Milde as a dove, but neither true nor trustie: Brighter than glasse, and yet, as glasse is, brittle, Softer then waxe, and yet, as iron rusty: lilly pale, with damaske die to grace her, None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. Her lips to mine how often hath shejoyned, _ Betweene each kisse her othes of true love swearing How many tales to please me hath she coyned, Dreading my love, the losse whereof still fearing! Yet in the mids of all her pure protestings, Her faith, her othes, her teares, and all were jeastings. She She She She Was burnt with love, as straw with fire flameth, burnt out love, as soone as straw outburneth: fram’d the love, and yet she foyld the framing, bad love last, and yet she fell a turning. this a lover, or a letcher whether? Bad in the best, yet excellent in neither. NNSA Y NT EH a) Hearts remote, yet not asunder; THE PHQ@:NIX AND TURTLE. Be of 3% ET the bird of loudest lay On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obay. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foule pre-currer of the fiend, Augour of the fevers end, To this troupe come thou not neere. From this session interdict Every foule of tyrant wing Save the eagle, feath’red king: Keepe the obsequie so strict. Let the priest in surples white, That defunctive musicke can, Be the death-devining swan, Lest the requiem lacke his right. And thou, treble-dated crow, That thy sable gender mak’st With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st, Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. Here the antheme doth commence: Love and constancie is dead : Pheenix and the turtle fled In a mutuall flame from hence. So they loved, as love in twain Had the essence but in one: Two distincts, division none: Number there in love was slaine. 214 Distance, and no space was seene Twixt this turtle and his queene: But in them it were a wonder. So betweene them love did shine, That the turtle saw his right Flaming in the pheenix sight: Either was the others mine. Propertie was thus appalled, That the selfe was not the same; Single natures double name Neither two nor one was called. Reason, in itselfe confounded, Saw division grow together; To themselves yet either neither, Simple were so well compounded: That it cried: How true a twain Seemeth this concordant one! Love hath reason, reason none, If what parts can so remaine. Whereupon it made this threne To the pheenix and the dove, Co-supremes and starres of love; As chorus to their tragique scene. THRENOS. Beautie, truth, and raritie, Grace in all simplicitie, Here enclosde in cinders lie. Death is now the pheenix nest; And the turtles loyal breast To eternitie doth rest. Leaving no posteritie:— Twas not their infirmitie, It was married chastitie. ‘Truth may seeme, but cannot be: Beautie bragge, but tis not she; Truth and beautie buried be. To this urne let those repaire That are either true or faire; For these dead birds sigha prayer. DatuAIP LN ET) Th ARIEL’S SONGS. L Seg OME unto these yellow sands, my And then take hands: > H6) Curtsied when you have, and kist, The wilde waves whist: Foote it featly heere and there; And, sweete sprights, beare The burthen. Harke, harke! Bowgh-wawgh: The watch-dogges barke, Bowgh-wawgh. Hark, hark, I heare, The straine ofstrutting Chanticlere Cry cockadidle-dowe. II. 2K y a4 ULL fadom five thy father lies; Of his bones are corrall made; (a Those are pearles that were iis eies; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Harke! now I heare them, ding-dong bell. jE RHILE you here do snoaring lie, N Open-ey’d conspiracie His time doth take. If of life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware: Awake,awake! § STEPHANO’S SONG. HE master, the swabber, the boate-swaine, and I, The gunner, and his mate, ¢ Lov’d Mall, Meg,and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of us car’d for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor, goe hang! She lov’d not the savour of tar nor of pitch, ARIEL’S FAREWELL SONG. Aw HERE the bee sucks, there suck I; IN In a cowslips bell I lie; TOR There I cowch when owles doe crie; AZ On the batt’s backe I doe flie, After sommer, merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bow. Yet a tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch, Then to sea, boyes, and let her goe hang! CALIBAN SINGS. esi O more dams [le make for fish, | Wik IIA . ° oe Pepe, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, yk Ot Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish. Ban’, ban’, Cacalyban Has a new master, get a new man. JUNO AND CERES SING. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing, Long continuance, and encreasing, Hourely joyes be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings on you. Earths increase, and foyzon plentie, Barnes and garners never empty; Vines, with clustring bunches growing; Plants, with goodly burthen bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of harvest. Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres blessing so is on you. 220 SILVIA’S SERENADE. § B HO is Silvia? what is she, % That all our swaines commend her? md Holy, faire, and wise is she: The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kinde as she is faire? For beauty lives with kindnesse: Love doth to her eyes repaire, To helpe him of his blindnesse; And, being help’d, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortall thing Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring. FAIRY LULLABY. XO A OU spotted snakes with double tongue, CO Thorny hedgehogges, be not seene; ae Newts and blindewormes do no wrong, Come not neere our Fairy Queene. aay HNN Wid. pi) Philomele, with melodie Sing in your sweet lullaby; Lulla, lula, lullaby: lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harme, nor spell, nor charme, Come our lovely Lady nye; So good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not heere; Hence you long-leg’d spinners, hence! Beetles blacke, approach not neere; Worme nor snayle, doe no offence. Philomele, with melodie Sing in our sweete lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harme, nor spell, nor charme Come our lovely Lady nye; So good night, with lullaby. Hence away! now all is well One aloofe stand centinell. SONG OF BOTTOM THE WEAVER. aN HE woosell-cocke, so blacke of hew, GN WER) with orenge-tawny bill, The throstle, with his note so true, The wren with little quill; The finch, the sparrow, and the larke, The plainsong cuckow gray, Whose note full many a man doth marke, And dares not answere, nay. SONG OF THE FAIRIES. Now the hungry lyon rores, And the wolfe behowls the moon; Whilest the heavy plowman snores, All with weary taske fore-done. Now the wasted brands doe glow, Whil’st the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance ofa shrowd. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Everyone lets forth his spright, In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do runne, By the triple Hecates teame, From the presence of the sunne, Following darknesse like a dreame, Now are frollicke; not a mouse Shall disturbe this hallowed house: I am sent with broome before, cp taka To sweep the dust behinde the doore. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie fier; Every elfe and fairy spright, Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippinglie. First rehearse this song by roate: To each word a warbling note, Hand in hand, with fairie grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. =n THE FAIRIES SING TOGETHER. OW untill the breake of day, Through this house each fairy stray. é To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; Now to scape the serpents tongue We will make amends ere long: Else the Pucke a lyar call. So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, =< And the issue, there create, 2a Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three And Robin shall restore amends. Ever true in loving be; FORD’S EXPERIENCE And the blots of Natures hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, harelip, nor scarre, ge OVE like a shadow flies, dus When substance Love pursues; f SPF Pursuing that that flies, And flying what pursues. Nor marke prodigious, such as are Despised in nativitie, Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gate; And each severall chamber blesse, Through this pallace, with sweet peace: Ever shall it safely rest, And the owner of it blest. Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by breake of day. If we shadowes have offended, Thinke but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbred heere, While these visions did appeare. And this weake and idle theame, No more yeelding but a dreame, Gentles, doe not reprehend; If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I am an honest Pucke, If we have unearned lucke 224 THE OF LOVE. FAIRIES’ RHYME. CVF CEP on ae i KO 7220) Sy) a) EY . LE on sinnefull phantasie! Fie on lust and luxurie! Lust is but a bloudy fire, ; Kindled with unchaste desire, Fed in heart whose flames aspire As thoughts do blow them, higher & higher. Pinch him, Fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villanie; Pinch him, and burne him, and turne him about, Till candles, and star-light, and moone-shine be out. A LOVE SONG. fi (@az S@i MISTRIS mine, where are you roming? JOM : f Cy p O, stay and heare; your true love’s coming, OZ That can sing both high and low: Trip no further prettie sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise mans sonne doth know. q ri What is love? ’tis not heereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; RHEN that I was and alittle tine boy, | With hey, ho, the winde and the raine, What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plentie; A foolish thing was but a toy, Then come kisse me, sweet-and-twentie Youth’s a stuffe will not endure. THE CLOWN’S But when I came to mans estate, SONGS. I. Fay ty OME oe D away, come away, death, And in sad cypresse ene be laide; Oe SERRA >) FI lye away, For the raine it raineth every day. fli flie away, breath; breath; ® Ae SG | am slaine by a faire cruell maide. My shrowd of white, stuck all with ew, O, prepare it! My part of death,no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete, On my blacke coffin let there be strewne; Nota friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne: A thousand thousand sighes to save, O, where Lay me, With hey, ho, the winde and the raine, ’Gainst knaves and theeves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the winde and the raine, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the raine it raineth every day. But when I came unto my beds, : With hey, ho, the winde and the raine, With tos-pottes still had drunken heades, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world begon, With hey, ho, the winde and the raine, But that’s all one, our play is done, And wee’l strive to please you every day. Sad true lover never find my grave, To weepe there! Il. 2| AM gone sir,and anon sir, 39,9 lle be with you againe, y) BALTHAZAR SINGS. IGH no more, ladies, sigh no more, 2 ? >< In a trice, like to the old vice, 4 Your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath Cries ah ha! to the divell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad: Adieu good man divell. 226 Men were deceivers ever, @) One foote in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them goe, é ) And be you blithe and bonnie; Converting all your sounds of woe Into, hey nony, nony. q2 Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy: Then sigh not so, but let them goe, And be you blithe and bonnie; Converting all your sounds of woe Into, hey nony,nony. For still her cheekes possesse the same, EPITAPH. Y Rope ONE to death by slanderous tongues ys Was the Hero that here lies: HY Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies: So the life that dyed with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tombe, Praising her when I am dombe. DIRGE FOR HERO. y) ARDON, goddesse of the night, ¥ Those that slew thy virgin knight; (Lg) eo) For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tombe they goe. ¢ Midnight, assist our mone; Helpe us to sigh and grone Heavily, heavily: Graves yawne and yeelde your dead, Till death be uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. 228 PORTRAIT OF A MISTRESS. €7 E32 F shee be made of white and red, rt (ea Her faults will nere be knowne; ia © p44) For blush in cheekes by faults are bred. va (OZ And feares by pale white showne: Then if she feare,or be to blame, By this you shall not know; Which native she doth owe. A JEST TWIXT MOTH AND ARMADO. GAQQHE foxe, the ape, and the humble-bee aN Were still at oddes, being but three, 72%) Untill the goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding foure. NATHANIEL’S SONNET. ue F love make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to love? O never faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed: aS to thee Ile faithfull prove; ey Though to myselfe forsworn, AA 4 Those thoughts to mee were okes, to thee like osiers bowed. Studie his byas leaves, and makes his booke thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend. Ifknowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice: Wel learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, Allignorant that soule that sees thee without wonder, Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire: Thy eye Joves lightning beares, thy voice his dreadful thunder Which, not to anger bent, is musique and sweet fire Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon love this wrong, That sings heavens praise with such an earthly tongue. es 0 THE KING'S SONNET. O sweet a kisse the golden sunne gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, 422 ) As thy eye-beames,when their fresh rays have smot » The night of dew that on my cheeks down flowes: Nor shines the silver moone one halfe so bright Through the transparent bosome of the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine give light; Thou shin’st in every teare that I doe weepe: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, So ridest thou triumphing in my woe; Do but behold the teares that swell in me: And they thy glory through my griefe will show: But doe not love thyself; then thou wilt keepe My teares for glasses, and still make make me weepe. O queene of queenes, how farre dost thou excel! No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortal tell. LONGAVILLE’S SONNET. Uy x ye ID not the heavenly rhetoricke of thine eye, WS ING BY ——f | AY Love, whose month is every May, ay Spied a blossome, passing faire, Sf Playing in the wanton ayre: Through the velvet leaves the winde, All unseene, can passage finde, That the lover, sicke to death, Wish himselfe the heavens breath, Ayre, quoth he, thy cheekes may blowe; I might triumph so! Ayre, would But alacke, my hand is sworne Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorne: Vow, alacke! for youth unmeete, Youth so apt to plucke a sweet. Doe not call it sin in me, That I am forsworne for thee; Thou for whom Jove would sweare Juno but an Ethiop were; And denie himself for Jove, Turning mortall for thy love. *Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Perswade my heart to this false perjurie? Vowes for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore: but I will prove, Thou being a goddesse I forswore not thee: My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love. Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace in me, Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is: Then thou faire sun, which on my earth doest shine, Exhalest this vapour-vowin , thee it is: If broken then,it is no fault of mine. If by me broke, what foole is not so wise To loose an oath,to wina paradise. 230 A LOVER FORSWORN. N a day, alack the day! @CiGa SONGS OF THE SEASONS. I, pied and violets blew daisies HEN yA hew (jBt And cuckow-buds of yellow white silver all ladie-smockes And | VL Do paint the medowes with delight, w/ \ The cuckow then, on everie tree, sings he, ASS) Mockes married men: for thus Cuckow; Cuckow, cuckow: O word of feare, Unpleasing to a married eare! i. When shepheards pipe on oaten strawes, And merrie larkes are ploughmens clockes, When turtles tread, and rookes and dawes, And maidens bleach their summer smockes, The cuckow then, on everie tree, Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow; Cuckow, cuckow: O word of feare, Unpleasing to a married eare! 1p go @HEN isicles hang by the wall 7 fs J And Dicke the shepheard blowes his naile 72), And Tom beares logges into the hall And milke comes frozen home in paile, ¥ When blood is nipt and waies be fowle, bi) ASS) Then nightly sings the staring owle, Tu-whit, to-who, A merrie note, = While greasie Jone doth keele the pot. SONG FOR MARIANA IN THE MOATED WA KE, oh, take those lips away, \) That so sweetly were forsworne; And those eyes, the breake of day, Lights that doe mislead the morne: But my kisses bring againe, bring againe: Seales of love, but seal’d in vaine, seal’d in vaine. as FANCIE’S DIRGE. Nise by) ELL me where is fancie bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? mre | How begot, how nourished? © ag ” li : N @ q@ ax ( _ Replic,replic.” FS BAN) O< | “Jt is engendred in the eyes, _ roy 29) With gazing fed: and fancie dies Ce In the cradle where it lies: Let us all ring fancies knell. . Ile begin it—Ding, dong, bell. “Ding, dong, bell.” II. When all aloud the winde doth blow And coffing drownes the parsons saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marrians nose lookes red and raw, When roasted crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring owle, Tu-whit, to-who, A merrie note, While greasie Jone doth keele the pot. 252 AMYENS SONG. gNDER the greene-wood tree <n Who loves to lye with mee, mee And turne his merrie note Pew GI Unto the sweet bird’s throte, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Heere shall he see no enemie But winter and rough weather. GRANGE Who doth ambition shunne, And loves to live i’ th’ sunne, Seeking the food he eates, Come hither, come hither, come hither: As frend remembered not. Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, unto the green holly: Most freindship is fayning; most loving, meere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly! This life is most jolly. Heere shall he see no enemie But winter and rough weather. ROSALIND. And pleas’d with what he gets; JACQUES’ PARODY. eA F it do come to passe re @) That any man turne asse, Leaving his wealth and ease, A stubborne will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he, And if he will come to me. A FOREST SONG. gl fn AN VEZ I hn 2 (CJ Heigh ho, sing Most frendship Then heigh ho, This life is most LOW, blow, thou winter winde, Thou art not so unkinde As mans ingratitude: Thy tooth is not so keene, Because thou art not seene, Although thy breath be rude. heigh ho, unto the greene holly: is fayning: most loving, meere folly: the holly! jolly. Freize, freize, thou bitter skie, That dost not bight so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warpe, Thy sting is not so sharpe 234 gyno 1 iy os the east to westerne Inde £44 No jewel is like Rosalinde. is T ROO Hir worth, being mounted on the winde, Through all the world beares Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest linde Are but blacke to Rosalinde. Let no face bee kept in mind But the faire of Rosalinde. THE CLOWNE'’S PARODY. FRAF a hart doe lacke a hinde, Cy Wes A Let him seeke out Rosalinde. MONE If the cat will after kinde, de. tS. ow) So, be sure, will Rosalin Wintred garments must be linde, So must slender Rosalinde. They that reap must sh eafe and binde; Then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut hath sowrest rinde, Such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will finde, Must finde loves pricke and Rosalinde. THE HOMILY OF LOVE. x S26 HY should this a desert bee? WWE For it is unpeopled? Noe: 3 Tonges Ile hang on everie tree, That shall civill sayings shoe. Some, how briefe the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage; That the stretching of a span Buckles in his summe of age. Some, of violated vowes *T wixt the soules of friend and friend: But upon the fairest bowes, Or at every sentence’ end, Will I Rosalinda write, Teaching all that reade to know The quintessence of everie sprite Heaven would in little show. Therefore heaven nature chare’d That one bodie should be fill’d With all graces wide enlarg’d: Nature presently distill’d Helens cheeke, but not her heart, Cleopatra’s majestie; Atalanta’s better part; Sad Lucrecia’s modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts By heavenly synode was devis’d, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches deerest pris’d. Heaven would that shee these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave. Ey BHAT shall he have that kild the deare? His leather skin, and hornes to weare. Then sing him home: Take thou no scorne to weare the horne; It was a crest ere thou wast borne: 236 Thy fathers father wore it, And thy father bore it: The horne, the horne, the lusty horne Is not a thing to laugh to scorne. THE MESSAGE OF HOPELESS LOVE. RT thou god to shepherd turn’d, 4 That a maidens heart hath burn’d? day Y Why, thy godhead laid apart, War’st thou with a womans heart? Whiles the eye of man did wooe me, That could do no vengeance to me. If the scorne of your bright eine i Have power to raise such love in mine, Alacke! in me what strange effect Would they worke in milde aspect! Whiles you chid me, I did love; How then might your praiers move! He that brings this love to thee, Little knowes this love in me: And by him seale up thy minde; Whether that thy youth and kinde Will the faithfull offer take Of me, and all that I can make; Or else by him my love denie, And then Ile studie how to die. A LOVER AND HIS LASS. G YT was a lover and his lasse, F 2 Witha hey, and a ho,and ahey nonino, That o’er the greene corne feild did passe ) In the spring time, the onely pretty ring time, j\ When birds do sing, hey ding,a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho,and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime. Betweene the acres of the rie, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These prettie country-folks would lie, In the spring-time, the onely pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring, And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime. This carroll they began that houre, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In the spring-time, the onely pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring, And therefore take the present time, Witha hey,and a ho, anda hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime. HYMEN SINGS. KY EACE hoa! I barre confusion: S22) Tis I must make conclusion eles Of these most strange events: Here’s eight that must take hands Tojoyne in Hymens bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no crosse shall part: You and you are hart in hart: You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord: You and you are sure together, As the winter to fowle weather. Whiles a wedlocke hymne we sing, Feede yourselves with questioning: That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met and these things finish. A WEDLOCK HYMNE. =) BEDDING is great Junos crowne: y “ O blessed bond of boord and bed! *Tis Hymen peoples everie towne; 4) High wedlock then be honored: THE BETROTHAL. Honor, high honor and renowne, To Hymen, god of everie towne! NY HEN is there mirth in heaven, EN When earthly things made eaven WER) attone together. Good duke, receive thy daughter, Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hether; That thou mightst joyne her hand with his, Whose heart within his bosome is. 238 FOOLE’S SOOTH. 1 wed OR I the ballad will repeate, \ox which men full true shall finde : we BY Nt Your marriage comes by destinie, TRS Your cuckow sings by kinde. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priam’s joy? With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There’s yet one good in ten. THE S73 Cy ) oeC MERRY PEDLAR. WOG-ON, jog-on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a; A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tyres in a mile-a. THE PEDLAR’S PACK. j ays \) ) , Ag ez (OS AUTOLYCUS SINGS. ARS GC HEN daffadils begin to peere, AS Lb With heigh! the doxy over the dale, .) Fem Why, then comes in the sweet o’ th’ yeere; OS 8 27 For the red blood raigns in the winters pale. The white sheete bleaching on the hedge, With hey! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth an-edge; For a quart of ale is a dish fora king. The larke, that tirra-lyra chaunts, With heigh! With heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lye tumbling in the hay. )} eS FQ UT shall I go mourne for that, my deere? As The pale moone shines by night: LYK And when I wander here, and there, I then do most go right. If tinkers may have leave to live, And beare the sow-skin bowget, Then my account I well may give, And in the stockes avouch it. 240 CC Seem (ew RZ iy »A W NE as white as driven snow; Cypresse blacke as e’er was crow; Gloves as sweete as damaske roses; Maskes for faces and wi wane Buegle-bracelet, necke-lace amber, Patfame for a ladies chamber; Golden quoifes, and stomachers, For my lads to give their deers; Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele, What maids lacke from head to heele: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: come buy. en ae Une aa Will you buy any tape, or lace for your cape, cf My dainty ducke, my deere-a? Any silke, any thred, any toyes for your head, Of the news’t, and fins’t, fins’t weare-a? Come to the pedler; money’s a medler. That doth utter all mens ware-a. THE BALLAD OF AUTOLYCUS, DORCAS s. Get you hence, for I must goe; Where it fits not you to know. Whether? O, whether? Whether? & MOPSA. . It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell: A SONG TO SOOTHE A QUEEN. Me too, let me go thether. . Or thou goest to th’ grange, or mill: If to either, thou dost ill. a. CRP G HEus with his lute made trees, ci wy 2 y And the mountaine tops that freeze, QZ Bow themselves when he did sing: Neither. What neither? Neither. Thou hast sworne my love to be: Thou hast sworne it more to mee: To his musicke, plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sunne and showers There had made a lasting Spring. Then, whether goest? Say, whether? Every thing that heard him play, Even the billowes of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by, In sweet musicke is such art, Killing-care and griefe of heart MASTER SILENCE SINGS. )) OE nothing but eate, and make good cheere And praise heaven for the merrie yeere; Fall asleepe, or hearing dye. 9 When flesh is cheape, and females deere, And lustie lads rome heere and there So merrily. And ever among so merrily. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; For women are shrewes both short and tall: "Tis merry in hall, when beards wagge all, And welcome merry shrovetide. Be merry, be merry. A cup of wine that’s briske and fine, And drinke unto thee leman mine; And a merry heart lives long-a. Fill the cuppe, and let it come; Ile pledge you a mile to the bottome. 242 Wy Cea OPHELIA’S SONGS. I. R58 7 OW should I your true love know From another one? rae, y By his cockle-hat and staffe, = ras y And his sandal-shoone. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grasse-greene turfe, At his heeles a stone. White his shrowd as the mountaine snow, Larded with sweet flowers; Which bewept to the grave did go, With true-love showers. r2 ine ‘il They bore him bare-fac’d on the bier; Hey non nony,nony, hey nony: And on his grave raines many a teare. Fare you well my dove! re Dee )}O-MORROW is 5. Valentines day, (Sx Allin the morning betime, Y AA 6 And Ia maid at your window, @) Tobe your valentine. Then up he rose, and don’d his clothes, And dupt the chamber-dore; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. By gis and by S. Charity, Alacke, and fie for shame! Yong men wil doo’t, if they come too’t; By cocke, they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promis’d me to wed. So would I ha’ done, by yonder sunne, An thou hadst not come to my bed. yin Il. ND will he not come againe? Ve, And will he not come again? p ay! Z\) No, no, he is dead, go to thy death-bed, eZjO. X. He never wil come againe. His beard as white as snow, All flaxen was his pole: He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone; Gramercy on his soule! 24.4 HAMLET’S : EK WILD VERSES. fHY, let the strucken deere go weepe, </¢ 2 The hart ungalled play, For some must watch, while some must sleepe: So runnes the world away. For thou dost know, Oh Damon deere, This realm dismantled was Of Jove himselfe: and now reignes heere A verie verie pajock. THE GRAVE-DIGGER’S SONG. N youth, when I did love, did love, a Me-thought it was very sweete; To contract, O, the time, for—a my behove, O, me-thought, there was nothing meete. But Age, with his stealing steps, Hath caught me in his clutch, And hath shipped me intill the land, As ifI had never beene such. A pickhaxe and a spade, a spade, For and a shrowding-sheete: O, a pit of clay for to be made, For sucha guest is meete. SERENADE. EARKE, hearke! the larke at heavens gate sings, H\ And Phebus ’gins arise ASA) His steed to water at those springs On chalic’d flowres that lyes; And winking mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is, my Lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise! 24.5 THE DIRGE OF IMOGEN. EARE no more the heate o’ th’ sun, |, pe 5 A 3 4) Nor the furious winters rages; oN Thou thy worldly task hast don, Home art gon and tane thy wages: Bee GING Stephen was and a worthy peere, —<@y His breeches cost him but a crowne; MY He held them six pence all to deere, With that he cal’d the tailor, lowne: He was a wight of high renowne, f Golden lads and girles all must, And thou art but of low degree: As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Tis pride that pulls the country downe; Pe And take thy auld cloake about thee! Ee titidirownenahbaretts D Thou art past the tirants stroake: Care no more to cloath and eate; To thee the reede is as the oake: ry e ww E { The scepter, learning, physicke, must 0 (( \ HE poore soule sat sighing, by a sicamour tree, Sing all a greene willough; \) Her hand on her bosome, her head on her knee, Sing willough, willough, willough. All follow this and come to dust. " Feare no more the lightning-flash, j) The fresh streames ran by her,& murmur’d her moanes, a@) Sing willough, willough, willough; Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones. Nor th’ all-dreaded thunderstone; Feare not slander, censure rash; Sing willough, willough, willough. Thou hast finish’d joy and mone: Sing all a greene willough must be my garland. Let no body blame him, his scorne I approve,— (Nay, that’s not next...) I call’d my love, false love; but what said he then? Sing willough, willough, willough; IfI court mo women, you'le couch with mo men. All lovers young, all lovers must Consigne to thee and come to dust. No exorcisor harme thee! Nor no witch-craft charme thee! Ghost unlaid forbeare thee! Nothing ill come neere thee! Quiet consumation have; And renowned be thy grave! A FOOL’S WISDOM. ee SONGS IAGO LEARN’D IN ENGLANDE. j POND let me the cannakin clinke, clinke: SY TAS : : And let me the cannakin clinke: ¥ @ay Y A soldiers aman; Oh mans life’s but a span; Why, then let a souldier drinke. 246 f \ N VEN t >) \Zgg"7Z2-~| ; I AVE more then thou showest, Speake lesse then thou knowest, Lend lesse then thou owest, BPs. @“\ Ride more then thou goest, § \G-MA Learne more then thou trowest, Set lesse then thou throwest; _ ie a are ‘ial i He Leave thy drinke and thy whore, And keepe in a-dore, And thou shalt have more Then two tens to a score. . That lord that counsail’d thee To give away thy land, Come place him heere by mee, Doe thou for him stand: The sweet and bitter foole Will presently appeare; The one in motley here, The other found out there. VII. A fox when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter, If my cap would buy a halter; So the foole followes after. VIII. Fathers that weare rags Do make their children blind; But fathers that beare bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Nere turns the key to th’ poore. III. Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere; For wise men are grown foppish, And know not how their wits to weare, Their manners are so apish. IV. Then they for sodaine joy did weepe, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peepe, And goe the fools among. Vi: Mum,mum: He that keepes nor crust nor crum, Weary of all,shall want some. VI. The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had it’s head bit off by it young. 248 TX; That And Will And sir which serves and seekes for gaine, followes but for forme, packe when it begins to raine, leave thee in the storme. But I will tarry; the foole will stay, And let the wiseman flie: The knave turnes foole that runnes away; The foole no knave, perdie. Xi The codpiece that will house Before the head has any, The head and he shall lowse: So beggars marry many. The man that makes his toe What he his hart should make, Shall ofa corne cry woe, And turne his sleepe to wake. XI. d He that has and a little-tyne wit, With heigh-ho, the winde and raine, Must make content with his fortunes fit, Though the raine it raineth every day. EDGAR’S CRAZY Y@l RHYMES. I, T. WITHOLD footed thrice the wold; a % He met the nightmare and her nine-fold; ON'@) Bid her alight em) And her troth plight, And aroynt the witch, aroynt thee. i Come o’er the bourne, Bessy, to me. Her boat hath a leake, And she must not speake Why she dares not come over to thee. III. Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepheard? Thy sheepe bee in the corne; And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, Thy shepe shall take no harme. IV. Be thy mouth or black or white, Tooth that poysons if it bite: Mastiffe, greyhound, mongrill grim, Hound or spaniell, brache or lym, Or bobtaile tyke, or trondle-taile, Tom will make him weepe and waile: For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled. 250 THE WITCHES’ RENDEZVOUS. When shall we three meet againe, In thunder, lightning, or in raine? When the hurleyburley’s done, When the battaile’s lost and wonne: That will be ere the set of sunne. Where the place? Upon the heath; There to meet with Macbeth. I come, Graymalkin! Paddock calls anon. Faire is foule, and foule is faire; Hover through the fogge and filthie air. THE CHARM. Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. Thrice; and once the hedge-pigge whin’d. Harpier cries: —Tis time, ’tis time. Round about the caldron go: In the poisoned entrailes throw. Toad, that under cold stone, Days and nights has thirty-one, Sweltred venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ th’ charméd pot! Double, double, toile and trouble; Fire, burne; and caldron bubble. Fillet ofa fenny snake, In the caldron boyl and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frogge; Wool of bat, and tongue of dogge; Adder’s forke, and blinde-wormes sting; Lizard’s legge, and howlet’s wing; For a charme of powreful trouble; Like a hell-broth boyle and bubble. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire, burne; and, cauldron, bubble. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolfe; Witches’ mummey; maw, and gulfe Of the ravined salt sea-sharke; Roote of hemlocke, digged i’ the darke; Liver of blaspheming Jew; EGYPTIAN BACCHANAL SONG. SRD OME, thou monarch of the vine, fa Plumpie Bacchus, with pinke eyne! MB) In thy fattes our cares be drown’d, With thy grapes our haires be crown’d: Cup us, till the world go round, Cup us, till the world go round! Gall of goate, and slippes of yew, Slivered in the moon’s eclipse; Nose of Turke, and Tartar’s lips; Finger of birth-strangled babe, Ditch-deliver’d by a drab, Make the grewel thicke and slab; Adde thereto a tigers chawdron, For th’ ingredience of our caldron. Double, double, toyle and trouble; Fire, burne; and, cauldron, bubble. Coole it with a baboones blood, Then the charme is firme and good. LOVE’S ARCHERYE. ; JS OVE, love,nothing but love,still love,still more! a SD oO For, O, Loves bow shootes bucke and doe: fag y a The shaft confounds not that it wounds, Bey)\ But tickles still the sore. p h > These lovers cry, oh! ho! they dye: ~/7y_ £9} Yet that which seemes the wound to kill, Doth turne oh! ho! to ha! ha! he! So dying love lives still: O! ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha! O! ho! grones out for ha! ha! ha!... hey ho! APEMANTUS’S GRACE. <h4MMORTALL gods,I crave no pelfe; WA pra f for no man b but myselfe: - he T pray Ife: €®) Graunt I may never prove so fond, To trust man on his oath or bond, Ora harlot for her weeping; Ora dogge that seemes a sleeping; Ora keeper with my freedome; Or my friends, if I should need ’em. Amen. So fall to’t: Rich men sin, and I eat root. 252 THE END. HERE END THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ACCORDING TO THE TEXT OF THE EARLIEST EDITIONS. ARRANGED, AND CAREFULLY COLLATED WITH THE ORIGINALS,BY F.S. ELLIS, AND PRINTED AT THE ESSEX HOUSE PRESS, UNDER THE CARE OF C.R.ASHBEE. DECEMBER, 1899 oT ! a Published by Epwarp ARNOLD, 37, Bedford Street, Strand. 450 copies. yy No27+ We alors Des ‘o ' ud ] Wi ee = the TOIT ORE yall nal aca! TRAN Te eae TI IGET TAI Sd SOLS