Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.2Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure:Toyou, toyou, all song of praise be due,Onely foryouthe heavens forget all measure.3Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth,Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely byyouCupidhis crowne maintaineth.4Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth,Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely toyouher scepterVenusgranteth.5Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish,Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely throughyouthe tree of life doth floorish.6Who hath the hand which without stroke subduethWho long hid beautie with encrease renueth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Only atyouall envie hopelesse endeth.7Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth,Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely ofyouthe flatterer never lieth.8Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders,Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely withyouno miracles are wonders.9Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my breast orechargd with Musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.2Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure:Toyou, toyou, all song of praise be due,Onely foryouthe heavens forget all measure.3Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth,Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely byyouCupidhis crowne maintaineth.4Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth,Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely toyouher scepterVenusgranteth.5Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish,Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely throughyouthe tree of life doth floorish.6Who hath the hand which without stroke subduethWho long hid beautie with encrease renueth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Only atyouall envie hopelesse endeth.7Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth,Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely ofyouthe flatterer never lieth.8Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders,Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely withyouno miracles are wonders.9Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my breast orechargd with Musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth?
Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,
Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
2Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure:Toyou, toyou, all song of praise be due,Onely foryouthe heavens forget all measure.
2Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,
Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure:
Toyou, toyou, all song of praise be due,
Onely foryouthe heavens forget all measure.
3Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth,Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely byyouCupidhis crowne maintaineth.
3Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth,
Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth:
Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,
Onely byyouCupidhis crowne maintaineth.
4Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth,Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely toyouher scepterVenusgranteth.
4Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth,
Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth:
Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,
Onely toyouher scepterVenusgranteth.
5Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish,Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely throughyouthe tree of life doth floorish.
5Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish,
Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish:
Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,
Onely throughyouthe tree of life doth floorish.
6Who hath the hand which without stroke subduethWho long hid beautie with encrease renueth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Only atyouall envie hopelesse endeth.
6Who hath the hand which without stroke subdueth
Who long hid beautie with encrease renueth:
Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,
Only atyouall envie hopelesse endeth.
7Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth,Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth:Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,Onely ofyouthe flatterer never lieth.
7Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth,
Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth:
Toyou, toyouall song of praise be due,
Onely ofyouthe flatterer never lieth.
8Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders,Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely withyouno miracles are wonders.
8Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders,
Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders?
Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,
Onely withyouno miracles are wonders.
9Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,Which now my breast orechargd with Musick lendeth?Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
9Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast orechargd with Musick lendeth?
Toyou, toyouall song of praise is due,
Onely inyoumy song begins and endeth.
Have I caught my heavenly JuelTeaching Sleepe most faire to be:Now will I teach her, that sheWhen shee wakes is too too cruell.2Since sweete Sleepe her eyes hath charmed,The two onely darts of Love:Now will I with that Boy proveSome play while he is disarmed.3Her tongue waking still refuseth,Giving franklie niggard no:Now will I attempt to knowe,What no her tongue sleeping useth.4See the hand that waking gardeth,Sleeping grants a free resort:Now I will invade the fort.Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.5But (O foole) thinke of the dangerOf her just and high disdaine.Now will I (alas) refraineLove feares nothing else but anger.6Yet those lippes so sweetly swelling,Do invite a stealing kisse;Now but venture will I this,Who will read must first learne spelling.7Oh sweete kisse, but ah shee is waking.Lowring beautie chastens mee.Now will I for feare hence flee,Foole, more Foole for no more taking.
Have I caught my heavenly JuelTeaching Sleepe most faire to be:Now will I teach her, that sheWhen shee wakes is too too cruell.2Since sweete Sleepe her eyes hath charmed,The two onely darts of Love:Now will I with that Boy proveSome play while he is disarmed.3Her tongue waking still refuseth,Giving franklie niggard no:Now will I attempt to knowe,What no her tongue sleeping useth.4See the hand that waking gardeth,Sleeping grants a free resort:Now I will invade the fort.Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.5But (O foole) thinke of the dangerOf her just and high disdaine.Now will I (alas) refraineLove feares nothing else but anger.6Yet those lippes so sweetly swelling,Do invite a stealing kisse;Now but venture will I this,Who will read must first learne spelling.7Oh sweete kisse, but ah shee is waking.Lowring beautie chastens mee.Now will I for feare hence flee,Foole, more Foole for no more taking.
Have I caught my heavenly JuelTeaching Sleepe most faire to be:Now will I teach her, that sheWhen shee wakes is too too cruell.
Have I caught my heavenly Juel
Teaching Sleepe most faire to be:
Now will I teach her, that she
When shee wakes is too too cruell.
2Since sweete Sleepe her eyes hath charmed,The two onely darts of Love:Now will I with that Boy proveSome play while he is disarmed.
2Since sweete Sleepe her eyes hath charmed,
The two onely darts of Love:
Now will I with that Boy prove
Some play while he is disarmed.
3Her tongue waking still refuseth,Giving franklie niggard no:Now will I attempt to knowe,What no her tongue sleeping useth.
3Her tongue waking still refuseth,
Giving franklie niggard no:
Now will I attempt to knowe,
What no her tongue sleeping useth.
4See the hand that waking gardeth,Sleeping grants a free resort:Now I will invade the fort.Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.
4See the hand that waking gardeth,
Sleeping grants a free resort:
Now I will invade the fort.
Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.
5But (O foole) thinke of the dangerOf her just and high disdaine.Now will I (alas) refraineLove feares nothing else but anger.
5But (O foole) thinke of the danger
Of her just and high disdaine.
Now will I (alas) refraine
Love feares nothing else but anger.
6Yet those lippes so sweetly swelling,Do invite a stealing kisse;Now but venture will I this,Who will read must first learne spelling.
6Yet those lippes so sweetly swelling,
Do invite a stealing kisse;
Now but venture will I this,
Who will read must first learne spelling.
7Oh sweete kisse, but ah shee is waking.Lowring beautie chastens mee.Now will I for feare hence flee,Foole, more Foole for no more taking.
7Oh sweete kisse, but ah shee is waking.
Lowring beautie chastens mee.
Now will I for feare hence flee,
Foole, more Foole for no more taking.
IfOrpheusvoyce had force to breathe such musicks LoveThrough pores of senseles trees, as it could make them move:If stones good measure daunst theThebanewalls to builde,To cadens of the tunes whichAmphionsLyre did yeeld,More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth.O stones, ô trees, learne hearing,Stellasingeth.2If Love might sweeten so a boy of Shepheards brood,To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loves food:If Eagle fierce could so inGrecianmaide delight,As her eyes were his light, her death his endlesse night:Earth gave that Love, heaven (I trow) Love refineth.O Beasts, ô Birds, looke Love; forStellashineth.3The beasts, birds, stones & trees feele this, and feeling love:And if the trees, nor stones stirre not the same to prove.Nor beasts, nor birds doo come unto this blessed gaze:Know that small Love is quick, and great Love doth amaze:They are amaz’d, but you with reason armed.O eyes, O eares of men, how are you charmed?
IfOrpheusvoyce had force to breathe such musicks LoveThrough pores of senseles trees, as it could make them move:If stones good measure daunst theThebanewalls to builde,To cadens of the tunes whichAmphionsLyre did yeeld,More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth.O stones, ô trees, learne hearing,Stellasingeth.2If Love might sweeten so a boy of Shepheards brood,To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loves food:If Eagle fierce could so inGrecianmaide delight,As her eyes were his light, her death his endlesse night:Earth gave that Love, heaven (I trow) Love refineth.O Beasts, ô Birds, looke Love; forStellashineth.3The beasts, birds, stones & trees feele this, and feeling love:And if the trees, nor stones stirre not the same to prove.Nor beasts, nor birds doo come unto this blessed gaze:Know that small Love is quick, and great Love doth amaze:They are amaz’d, but you with reason armed.O eyes, O eares of men, how are you charmed?
IfOrpheusvoyce had force to breathe such musicks LoveThrough pores of senseles trees, as it could make them move:If stones good measure daunst theThebanewalls to builde,To cadens of the tunes whichAmphionsLyre did yeeld,More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth.O stones, ô trees, learne hearing,Stellasingeth.
IfOrpheusvoyce had force to breathe such musicks Love
Through pores of senseles trees, as it could make them move:
If stones good measure daunst theThebanewalls to builde,
To cadens of the tunes whichAmphionsLyre did yeeld,
More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth.
O stones, ô trees, learne hearing,Stellasingeth.
2If Love might sweeten so a boy of Shepheards brood,To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loves food:If Eagle fierce could so inGrecianmaide delight,As her eyes were his light, her death his endlesse night:Earth gave that Love, heaven (I trow) Love refineth.O Beasts, ô Birds, looke Love; forStellashineth.
2If Love might sweeten so a boy of Shepheards brood,
To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loves food:
If Eagle fierce could so inGrecianmaide delight,
As her eyes were his light, her death his endlesse night:
Earth gave that Love, heaven (I trow) Love refineth.
O Beasts, ô Birds, looke Love; forStellashineth.
3The beasts, birds, stones & trees feele this, and feeling love:And if the trees, nor stones stirre not the same to prove.Nor beasts, nor birds doo come unto this blessed gaze:Know that small Love is quick, and great Love doth amaze:They are amaz’d, but you with reason armed.O eyes, O eares of men, how are you charmed?
3The beasts, birds, stones & trees feele this, and feeling love:
And if the trees, nor stones stirre not the same to prove.
Nor beasts, nor birds doo come unto this blessed gaze:
Know that small Love is quick, and great Love doth amaze:
They are amaz’d, but you with reason armed.
O eyes, O eares of men, how are you charmed?
OnelyJoy, now here you are,Fit to heare and ease my care:Let my whispering voyce obtaineSweete rewards for sharpest paine:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.2Night hath closde all in her cloke,Twinkling starres love thoughts provoke,Danger hence good care doth keepe,Jelouziehim selfe doth sleepe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.3Better place no wit can findeCupidsknot to loose or binde,These sweete flowers, our fine bed too,Us in their best language wooe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee:No no no no, my Deare let bee.4This small light the Moone bestoes,Serves thy beames for to disclose,So to raise my heart more hie:Feare not, els none can us spie:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.5That you heard was but a mouse,Dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the house,Yet a sleepe (methinks) they say,Yong fooles, take time while you may:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.6Niggard time threates if we misseThis large offer of our blisse,Long stay ere shee graunt the same:Sweete then, while ech thing doth frameTake me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.7Your faire Mother is a bed,Candles out, and curtaines spred;Shee thinkes you do letters write:Write, but first let me endite.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.8Sweete, alas why strive you thus?Concord better fitteth us;Leave toMarsthe force of hands.Your power in your beautie stands.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.9Woe to mee, and do you sweare,Me to hate but I forbeare?Curst be my destinies all,That brought mee so high to fall:Soone with my death Ile please thee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.
OnelyJoy, now here you are,Fit to heare and ease my care:Let my whispering voyce obtaineSweete rewards for sharpest paine:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.2Night hath closde all in her cloke,Twinkling starres love thoughts provoke,Danger hence good care doth keepe,Jelouziehim selfe doth sleepe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.3Better place no wit can findeCupidsknot to loose or binde,These sweete flowers, our fine bed too,Us in their best language wooe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee:No no no no, my Deare let bee.4This small light the Moone bestoes,Serves thy beames for to disclose,So to raise my heart more hie:Feare not, els none can us spie:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.5That you heard was but a mouse,Dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the house,Yet a sleepe (methinks) they say,Yong fooles, take time while you may:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.6Niggard time threates if we misseThis large offer of our blisse,Long stay ere shee graunt the same:Sweete then, while ech thing doth frameTake me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.7Your faire Mother is a bed,Candles out, and curtaines spred;Shee thinkes you do letters write:Write, but first let me endite.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.8Sweete, alas why strive you thus?Concord better fitteth us;Leave toMarsthe force of hands.Your power in your beautie stands.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.9Woe to mee, and do you sweare,Me to hate but I forbeare?Curst be my destinies all,That brought mee so high to fall:Soone with my death Ile please thee.No no no no, my Deare let bee.
OnelyJoy, now here you are,Fit to heare and ease my care:Let my whispering voyce obtaineSweete rewards for sharpest paine:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
OnelyJoy, now here you are,
Fit to heare and ease my care:
Let my whispering voyce obtaine
Sweete rewards for sharpest paine:
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
2Night hath closde all in her cloke,Twinkling starres love thoughts provoke,Danger hence good care doth keepe,Jelouziehim selfe doth sleepe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
2Night hath closde all in her cloke,
Twinkling starres love thoughts provoke,
Danger hence good care doth keepe,
Jelouziehim selfe doth sleepe:
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
3Better place no wit can findeCupidsknot to loose or binde,These sweete flowers, our fine bed too,Us in their best language wooe:Take me to thee, and thee to mee:
3Better place no wit can finde
Cupidsknot to loose or binde,
These sweete flowers, our fine bed too,
Us in their best language wooe:
Take me to thee, and thee to mee:
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
4This small light the Moone bestoes,Serves thy beames for to disclose,So to raise my heart more hie:Feare not, els none can us spie:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
4This small light the Moone bestoes,
Serves thy beames for to disclose,
So to raise my heart more hie:
Feare not, els none can us spie:
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
5That you heard was but a mouse,Dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the house,Yet a sleepe (methinks) they say,Yong fooles, take time while you may:Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
5That you heard was but a mouse,
Dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the house,
Yet a sleepe (methinks) they say,
Yong fooles, take time while you may:
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
6Niggard time threates if we misseThis large offer of our blisse,Long stay ere shee graunt the same:Sweete then, while ech thing doth frameTake me to thee, and thee to mee.
6Niggard time threates if we misse
This large offer of our blisse,
Long stay ere shee graunt the same:
Sweete then, while ech thing doth frame
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
7Your faire Mother is a bed,Candles out, and curtaines spred;Shee thinkes you do letters write:Write, but first let me endite.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
7Your faire Mother is a bed,
Candles out, and curtaines spred;
Shee thinkes you do letters write:
Write, but first let me endite.
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
8Sweete, alas why strive you thus?Concord better fitteth us;Leave toMarsthe force of hands.Your power in your beautie stands.Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
8Sweete, alas why strive you thus?
Concord better fitteth us;
Leave toMarsthe force of hands.
Your power in your beautie stands.
Take me to thee, and thee to mee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
9Woe to mee, and do you sweare,Me to hate but I forbeare?Curst be my destinies all,That brought mee so high to fall:Soone with my death Ile please thee.
9Woe to mee, and do you sweare,
Me to hate but I forbeare?
Curst be my destinies all,
That brought mee so high to fall:
Soone with my death Ile please thee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
No no no no, my Deare let bee.
While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speach did follow thought,Then drew my tongue and pen records unto thy glorie;I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee,I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse than deaffe, that heard not out thy storie.2I said thou wert most faire, and so indeede thou art;I said thou wert most sweete, sweete poyson to my hart;I said my soule was thine, ô would I then had lied;I said thy eyes were starres, thy breasts the milken way,Thy fingersCupidsshafts, thy voice the Angels lay:And all is said so well, that no man it denied.3But now that hope is lost, unkindnes kils delight,Yet thought and speach do live, thought metamorphisde quite,For rage now rules the reynes, which guided were by pleasure,I thinke now of thy faults, who late wrote of thy praise,That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise:The same key open can, which can locke up a treasure.4Then thou whom partiall heavens conspir’d in one to frameThe proofe of beauties worke, the inheritance of fame,The mansion state of blisse, and just excuse of lovers:See now those feathers pluckt wherewith thou flewest most hie,See what cloudes of reproach shall darke thy honours skie;Whom fault once casteth downe, hardly high state recovers.5And ô my Muse, though oft you luld her in your lap,And then a heavenly Childe gave her Ambrosian pap,And to that braine of hers your highest gifts infused:Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdaine,Suffer not her to laugh, and both we suffer paine:Princes in subjects wrongd must deeme themselves abused.6Your client poore, my selfe, shallStellahandle so,Revenge, revenge, my Muse defiance trumpet blowe,Threat, threat, what may be done; yet do no more but threaten:Ah, my sute granted is, I feele my breast doth swell;Now Childe, a lesson new you shall begin to spell,Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girles must be beaten.7Thinke now no more to heare of warme fine shining snow,Nor blushing Lillyes, nor pearles Rubie hidden row,Nor of that golden sea, whose waves in curles are broken:But of thy soule fraught with such ungratefulnesse,As where thou soone mightst help, most there thou dost oppresse:Ungratefull who is cald, the worst of ills is spoken.8Yet worse than worse, I say thou art a Thiefe. A thiefe?Now God forbid: a thiefe, and of worst thieves a thiefe;Thieves steale for neede, & steale for goods, which paine recovers:Butthou, rich in all joyes, dost rob my goods from mee,Which cannot be restorde by time nor industrie:Of foes the spoyle is evill, farre more of constant lovers.9Yet gentle English thieves doo rob, and will not slay;Thou English murdring thiefe, wilt have hearts for thy pray.The name of murdrer now on thy faire forhead sitteth,And even while I do speake my death wounds bleeding bee,Which I protest proceed from onely cruell thee.Who may and will not save, murther in trueth committeth.10But murthers private fault seemes but a toy to thee.I lay then to thy charge unjustice Tirannie,If rule by force without all claime, a Tyrant sheweth;For thou art my hearts Lord, who am not borne thy slave,And which is worse makes me most guiltles torments have.A rightfull Prince by unrightfull deeds a Tyrant groweth.11Loe you grow proud with this, for Tyrants makes folks bow:Of foule rebellion then I do appeach thee now,Rebels by Natures lawes rebell by way of reason:Thou sweetest subject wert borne in the Realme of Love,And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove.No vertue merits praise, once toucht with blot of Treason.12But valiant Rebels oft in fooles mouthes purchase fame,I now then staine thy white with blackest blot of shame,Both Rebel to the Sonne, and vagrant from the Mother,For wearingVenusbadge, in every part of thee,UntoDianaestraine thou runnaway didst flie:Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.13What is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here:AWitchI say thou art, though thou so faire appeare.For I protest, mine eyes never thy sight enjoyeth,But I in mee am chang’d, I am alive and dead.My feete are turn’d to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth.14Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:Alas, that I am forst such evill of thee to say:I say thou art a Divel though cloathd in Angels shining:For thy face tempts my soule to leave the heavens for thee,And thy words of refuse doo powre even hell on mee:Who tempts, and tempting plagues are Divels in true defining.15You then ungrateful theefe, you murthering Tirant you,You Rebell runnaway, to Lord and Lady untrue,You Witch, you Divel (alas) you still in me beloved,You see what I can say: mend yet your froward minde,And such skill in my Muse you reconcil’d shall finde,That by these cruell words your praises shal be proved.
While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speach did follow thought,Then drew my tongue and pen records unto thy glorie;I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee,I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse than deaffe, that heard not out thy storie.2I said thou wert most faire, and so indeede thou art;I said thou wert most sweete, sweete poyson to my hart;I said my soule was thine, ô would I then had lied;I said thy eyes were starres, thy breasts the milken way,Thy fingersCupidsshafts, thy voice the Angels lay:And all is said so well, that no man it denied.3But now that hope is lost, unkindnes kils delight,Yet thought and speach do live, thought metamorphisde quite,For rage now rules the reynes, which guided were by pleasure,I thinke now of thy faults, who late wrote of thy praise,That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise:The same key open can, which can locke up a treasure.4Then thou whom partiall heavens conspir’d in one to frameThe proofe of beauties worke, the inheritance of fame,The mansion state of blisse, and just excuse of lovers:See now those feathers pluckt wherewith thou flewest most hie,See what cloudes of reproach shall darke thy honours skie;Whom fault once casteth downe, hardly high state recovers.5And ô my Muse, though oft you luld her in your lap,And then a heavenly Childe gave her Ambrosian pap,And to that braine of hers your highest gifts infused:Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdaine,Suffer not her to laugh, and both we suffer paine:Princes in subjects wrongd must deeme themselves abused.6Your client poore, my selfe, shallStellahandle so,Revenge, revenge, my Muse defiance trumpet blowe,Threat, threat, what may be done; yet do no more but threaten:Ah, my sute granted is, I feele my breast doth swell;Now Childe, a lesson new you shall begin to spell,Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girles must be beaten.7Thinke now no more to heare of warme fine shining snow,Nor blushing Lillyes, nor pearles Rubie hidden row,Nor of that golden sea, whose waves in curles are broken:But of thy soule fraught with such ungratefulnesse,As where thou soone mightst help, most there thou dost oppresse:Ungratefull who is cald, the worst of ills is spoken.8Yet worse than worse, I say thou art a Thiefe. A thiefe?Now God forbid: a thiefe, and of worst thieves a thiefe;Thieves steale for neede, & steale for goods, which paine recovers:Butthou, rich in all joyes, dost rob my goods from mee,Which cannot be restorde by time nor industrie:Of foes the spoyle is evill, farre more of constant lovers.9Yet gentle English thieves doo rob, and will not slay;Thou English murdring thiefe, wilt have hearts for thy pray.The name of murdrer now on thy faire forhead sitteth,And even while I do speake my death wounds bleeding bee,Which I protest proceed from onely cruell thee.Who may and will not save, murther in trueth committeth.10But murthers private fault seemes but a toy to thee.I lay then to thy charge unjustice Tirannie,If rule by force without all claime, a Tyrant sheweth;For thou art my hearts Lord, who am not borne thy slave,And which is worse makes me most guiltles torments have.A rightfull Prince by unrightfull deeds a Tyrant groweth.11Loe you grow proud with this, for Tyrants makes folks bow:Of foule rebellion then I do appeach thee now,Rebels by Natures lawes rebell by way of reason:Thou sweetest subject wert borne in the Realme of Love,And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove.No vertue merits praise, once toucht with blot of Treason.12But valiant Rebels oft in fooles mouthes purchase fame,I now then staine thy white with blackest blot of shame,Both Rebel to the Sonne, and vagrant from the Mother,For wearingVenusbadge, in every part of thee,UntoDianaestraine thou runnaway didst flie:Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.13What is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here:AWitchI say thou art, though thou so faire appeare.For I protest, mine eyes never thy sight enjoyeth,But I in mee am chang’d, I am alive and dead.My feete are turn’d to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth.14Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:Alas, that I am forst such evill of thee to say:I say thou art a Divel though cloathd in Angels shining:For thy face tempts my soule to leave the heavens for thee,And thy words of refuse doo powre even hell on mee:Who tempts, and tempting plagues are Divels in true defining.15You then ungrateful theefe, you murthering Tirant you,You Rebell runnaway, to Lord and Lady untrue,You Witch, you Divel (alas) you still in me beloved,You see what I can say: mend yet your froward minde,And such skill in my Muse you reconcil’d shall finde,That by these cruell words your praises shal be proved.
While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speach did follow thought,Then drew my tongue and pen records unto thy glorie;I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee,I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse than deaffe, that heard not out thy storie.
While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,
Thought waited on delight, and speach did follow thought,
Then drew my tongue and pen records unto thy glorie;
I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee,
I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,
And all eares worse than deaffe, that heard not out thy storie.
2I said thou wert most faire, and so indeede thou art;I said thou wert most sweete, sweete poyson to my hart;I said my soule was thine, ô would I then had lied;I said thy eyes were starres, thy breasts the milken way,Thy fingersCupidsshafts, thy voice the Angels lay:And all is said so well, that no man it denied.
2I said thou wert most faire, and so indeede thou art;
I said thou wert most sweete, sweete poyson to my hart;
I said my soule was thine, ô would I then had lied;
I said thy eyes were starres, thy breasts the milken way,
Thy fingersCupidsshafts, thy voice the Angels lay:
And all is said so well, that no man it denied.
3But now that hope is lost, unkindnes kils delight,Yet thought and speach do live, thought metamorphisde quite,For rage now rules the reynes, which guided were by pleasure,I thinke now of thy faults, who late wrote of thy praise,That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise:The same key open can, which can locke up a treasure.
3But now that hope is lost, unkindnes kils delight,
Yet thought and speach do live, thought metamorphisde quite,
For rage now rules the reynes, which guided were by pleasure,
I thinke now of thy faults, who late wrote of thy praise,
That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise:
The same key open can, which can locke up a treasure.
4Then thou whom partiall heavens conspir’d in one to frameThe proofe of beauties worke, the inheritance of fame,The mansion state of blisse, and just excuse of lovers:See now those feathers pluckt wherewith thou flewest most hie,See what cloudes of reproach shall darke thy honours skie;Whom fault once casteth downe, hardly high state recovers.
4Then thou whom partiall heavens conspir’d in one to frame
The proofe of beauties worke, the inheritance of fame,
The mansion state of blisse, and just excuse of lovers:
See now those feathers pluckt wherewith thou flewest most hie,
See what cloudes of reproach shall darke thy honours skie;
Whom fault once casteth downe, hardly high state recovers.
5And ô my Muse, though oft you luld her in your lap,And then a heavenly Childe gave her Ambrosian pap,And to that braine of hers your highest gifts infused:Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdaine,Suffer not her to laugh, and both we suffer paine:Princes in subjects wrongd must deeme themselves abused.
5And ô my Muse, though oft you luld her in your lap,
And then a heavenly Childe gave her Ambrosian pap,
And to that braine of hers your highest gifts infused:
Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdaine,
Suffer not her to laugh, and both we suffer paine:
Princes in subjects wrongd must deeme themselves abused.
6Your client poore, my selfe, shallStellahandle so,Revenge, revenge, my Muse defiance trumpet blowe,Threat, threat, what may be done; yet do no more but threaten:Ah, my sute granted is, I feele my breast doth swell;Now Childe, a lesson new you shall begin to spell,Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girles must be beaten.
6Your client poore, my selfe, shallStellahandle so,
Revenge, revenge, my Muse defiance trumpet blowe,
Threat, threat, what may be done; yet do no more but threaten:
Ah, my sute granted is, I feele my breast doth swell;
Now Childe, a lesson new you shall begin to spell,
Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girles must be beaten.
7Thinke now no more to heare of warme fine shining snow,Nor blushing Lillyes, nor pearles Rubie hidden row,Nor of that golden sea, whose waves in curles are broken:But of thy soule fraught with such ungratefulnesse,As where thou soone mightst help, most there thou dost oppresse:Ungratefull who is cald, the worst of ills is spoken.
7Thinke now no more to heare of warme fine shining snow,
Nor blushing Lillyes, nor pearles Rubie hidden row,
Nor of that golden sea, whose waves in curles are broken:
But of thy soule fraught with such ungratefulnesse,
As where thou soone mightst help, most there thou dost oppresse:
Ungratefull who is cald, the worst of ills is spoken.
8Yet worse than worse, I say thou art a Thiefe. A thiefe?Now God forbid: a thiefe, and of worst thieves a thiefe;Thieves steale for neede, & steale for goods, which paine recovers:Butthou, rich in all joyes, dost rob my goods from mee,Which cannot be restorde by time nor industrie:Of foes the spoyle is evill, farre more of constant lovers.
8Yet worse than worse, I say thou art a Thiefe. A thiefe?
Now God forbid: a thiefe, and of worst thieves a thiefe;
Thieves steale for neede, & steale for goods, which paine recovers:
Butthou, rich in all joyes, dost rob my goods from mee,
Which cannot be restorde by time nor industrie:
Of foes the spoyle is evill, farre more of constant lovers.
9Yet gentle English thieves doo rob, and will not slay;Thou English murdring thiefe, wilt have hearts for thy pray.The name of murdrer now on thy faire forhead sitteth,And even while I do speake my death wounds bleeding bee,Which I protest proceed from onely cruell thee.Who may and will not save, murther in trueth committeth.
9Yet gentle English thieves doo rob, and will not slay;
Thou English murdring thiefe, wilt have hearts for thy pray.
The name of murdrer now on thy faire forhead sitteth,
And even while I do speake my death wounds bleeding bee,
Which I protest proceed from onely cruell thee.
Who may and will not save, murther in trueth committeth.
10But murthers private fault seemes but a toy to thee.I lay then to thy charge unjustice Tirannie,If rule by force without all claime, a Tyrant sheweth;For thou art my hearts Lord, who am not borne thy slave,And which is worse makes me most guiltles torments have.A rightfull Prince by unrightfull deeds a Tyrant groweth.
10But murthers private fault seemes but a toy to thee.
I lay then to thy charge unjustice Tirannie,
If rule by force without all claime, a Tyrant sheweth;
For thou art my hearts Lord, who am not borne thy slave,
And which is worse makes me most guiltles torments have.
A rightfull Prince by unrightfull deeds a Tyrant groweth.
11Loe you grow proud with this, for Tyrants makes folks bow:Of foule rebellion then I do appeach thee now,Rebels by Natures lawes rebell by way of reason:Thou sweetest subject wert borne in the Realme of Love,And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove.No vertue merits praise, once toucht with blot of Treason.
11Loe you grow proud with this, for Tyrants makes folks bow:
Of foule rebellion then I do appeach thee now,
Rebels by Natures lawes rebell by way of reason:
Thou sweetest subject wert borne in the Realme of Love,
And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove.
No vertue merits praise, once toucht with blot of Treason.
12But valiant Rebels oft in fooles mouthes purchase fame,I now then staine thy white with blackest blot of shame,Both Rebel to the Sonne, and vagrant from the Mother,For wearingVenusbadge, in every part of thee,UntoDianaestraine thou runnaway didst flie:Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.
12But valiant Rebels oft in fooles mouthes purchase fame,
I now then staine thy white with blackest blot of shame,
Both Rebel to the Sonne, and vagrant from the Mother,
For wearingVenusbadge, in every part of thee,
UntoDianaestraine thou runnaway didst flie:
Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.
13What is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here:AWitchI say thou art, though thou so faire appeare.For I protest, mine eyes never thy sight enjoyeth,But I in mee am chang’d, I am alive and dead.My feete are turn’d to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth.
13What is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here:
AWitchI say thou art, though thou so faire appeare.
For I protest, mine eyes never thy sight enjoyeth,
But I in mee am chang’d, I am alive and dead.
My feete are turn’d to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,
No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth.
14Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:Alas, that I am forst such evill of thee to say:I say thou art a Divel though cloathd in Angels shining:For thy face tempts my soule to leave the heavens for thee,And thy words of refuse doo powre even hell on mee:Who tempts, and tempting plagues are Divels in true defining.
14Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:
Alas, that I am forst such evill of thee to say:
I say thou art a Divel though cloathd in Angels shining:
For thy face tempts my soule to leave the heavens for thee,
And thy words of refuse doo powre even hell on mee:
Who tempts, and tempting plagues are Divels in true defining.
15You then ungrateful theefe, you murthering Tirant you,You Rebell runnaway, to Lord and Lady untrue,You Witch, you Divel (alas) you still in me beloved,You see what I can say: mend yet your froward minde,And such skill in my Muse you reconcil’d shall finde,That by these cruell words your praises shal be proved.
15You then ungrateful theefe, you murthering Tirant you,
You Rebell runnaway, to Lord and Lady untrue,
You Witch, you Divel (alas) you still in me beloved,
You see what I can say: mend yet your froward minde,
And such skill in my Muse you reconcil’d shall finde,
That by these cruell words your praises shal be proved.
O You that heare this voice,O you that see this face,Say whether of the choice,Deserves the better place,Feare not to judge this bate,For it is voide of hate.2This side doth Beautie take,For that doth Musick speake,Fit Orators to make,The strongest judgements weake.The barre to plead the right,Is onely true delight.3Thus doth the voice and face,The gentle Lawiers wage,Like loving brothers case,For Fathers heritage,That each while each contends,It selfe to other lends.4For Beautie beautifiesWith heavenly view and grace,The heavenly harmonie;And in this faultles faceThe perfect beauties bee,A perfect harmonie.5Musick more lustie swelsIn speeches nobly placed,Beautie as farre excelsIn actions aptly graced.A friend each partie drawes,To countenance his cause.6Love more affected seemesTo Beauties lonely light,And wonder more esteemesOf Musicks wondrous might;But both to both so bent,As both in both are spent.7Musicke doth witnes callThe eare his truth to trie:Beautie brings to the hallThe judgement of the eie:Both in their objects such,As no exceptions tuch.8The common Sense which mightBe arbitrer of this,To be forsooth upright,To both sides partiall is:He laies on this chiefe praise,Chiefe praise on that he laies.9Then reason Princesse hie,Whose throne is in the minde;Which Musicke can in skie,And hidden Beauties finde:Say, whether thou wilt crowneWith limitlesse renowne.
O You that heare this voice,O you that see this face,Say whether of the choice,Deserves the better place,Feare not to judge this bate,For it is voide of hate.2This side doth Beautie take,For that doth Musick speake,Fit Orators to make,The strongest judgements weake.The barre to plead the right,Is onely true delight.3Thus doth the voice and face,The gentle Lawiers wage,Like loving brothers case,For Fathers heritage,That each while each contends,It selfe to other lends.4For Beautie beautifiesWith heavenly view and grace,The heavenly harmonie;And in this faultles faceThe perfect beauties bee,A perfect harmonie.5Musick more lustie swelsIn speeches nobly placed,Beautie as farre excelsIn actions aptly graced.A friend each partie drawes,To countenance his cause.6Love more affected seemesTo Beauties lonely light,And wonder more esteemesOf Musicks wondrous might;But both to both so bent,As both in both are spent.7Musicke doth witnes callThe eare his truth to trie:Beautie brings to the hallThe judgement of the eie:Both in their objects such,As no exceptions tuch.8The common Sense which mightBe arbitrer of this,To be forsooth upright,To both sides partiall is:He laies on this chiefe praise,Chiefe praise on that he laies.9Then reason Princesse hie,Whose throne is in the minde;Which Musicke can in skie,And hidden Beauties finde:Say, whether thou wilt crowneWith limitlesse renowne.
O You that heare this voice,O you that see this face,Say whether of the choice,Deserves the better place,Feare not to judge this bate,For it is voide of hate.
O You that heare this voice,
O you that see this face,
Say whether of the choice,
Deserves the better place,
Feare not to judge this bate,
For it is voide of hate.
2This side doth Beautie take,For that doth Musick speake,Fit Orators to make,The strongest judgements weake.The barre to plead the right,Is onely true delight.
2This side doth Beautie take,
For that doth Musick speake,
Fit Orators to make,
The strongest judgements weake.
The barre to plead the right,
Is onely true delight.
3Thus doth the voice and face,The gentle Lawiers wage,Like loving brothers case,For Fathers heritage,That each while each contends,It selfe to other lends.
3Thus doth the voice and face,
The gentle Lawiers wage,
Like loving brothers case,
For Fathers heritage,
That each while each contends,
It selfe to other lends.
4For Beautie beautifiesWith heavenly view and grace,The heavenly harmonie;And in this faultles faceThe perfect beauties bee,A perfect harmonie.
4For Beautie beautifies
With heavenly view and grace,
The heavenly harmonie;
And in this faultles face
The perfect beauties bee,
A perfect harmonie.
5Musick more lustie swelsIn speeches nobly placed,Beautie as farre excelsIn actions aptly graced.A friend each partie drawes,To countenance his cause.
5Musick more lustie swels
In speeches nobly placed,
Beautie as farre excels
In actions aptly graced.
A friend each partie drawes,
To countenance his cause.
6Love more affected seemesTo Beauties lonely light,And wonder more esteemesOf Musicks wondrous might;But both to both so bent,As both in both are spent.
6Love more affected seemes
To Beauties lonely light,
And wonder more esteemes
Of Musicks wondrous might;
But both to both so bent,
As both in both are spent.
7Musicke doth witnes callThe eare his truth to trie:Beautie brings to the hallThe judgement of the eie:Both in their objects such,As no exceptions tuch.
7Musicke doth witnes call
The eare his truth to trie:
Beautie brings to the hall
The judgement of the eie:
Both in their objects such,
As no exceptions tuch.
8The common Sense which mightBe arbitrer of this,To be forsooth upright,To both sides partiall is:He laies on this chiefe praise,Chiefe praise on that he laies.
8The common Sense which might
Be arbitrer of this,
To be forsooth upright,
To both sides partiall is:
He laies on this chiefe praise,
Chiefe praise on that he laies.
9Then reason Princesse hie,Whose throne is in the minde;Which Musicke can in skie,And hidden Beauties finde:Say, whether thou wilt crowneWith limitlesse renowne.
9Then reason Princesse hie,
Whose throne is in the minde;
Which Musicke can in skie,
And hidden Beauties finde:
Say, whether thou wilt crowne
With limitlesse renowne.
Whose senses in so evil comfort their stepdame Nature laies,That ravishing delight in them most sweete tunes doth not raise,Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so cloid with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, & learne in wonders scholes,To be (in things past bounds of wit) fooles if they be not fooles.2Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweete Beauties showe:Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to knowe;Or knowing have so muddie mindes, as not to be in love;Or loving, have so frothie hearts, as easie thence to move:O, let them see these heavenly beames, and in faire, letters reedA lesson, fit both sight and skill, Love and firme Love to breed.3Heare then, but then with wonder hear; see, but admiring see,No mortal gifts, no earthly fruts now heare diserned bee:See, doo you see this face: a face, nay image of the skyes:Of which, the two life-given lights are figured in her eyes:Heare you this soule-invading voyce, and count it but a voyce,The verie essence of their tunes, when Angls doo rejoyce.
Whose senses in so evil comfort their stepdame Nature laies,That ravishing delight in them most sweete tunes doth not raise,Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so cloid with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, & learne in wonders scholes,To be (in things past bounds of wit) fooles if they be not fooles.2Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweete Beauties showe:Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to knowe;Or knowing have so muddie mindes, as not to be in love;Or loving, have so frothie hearts, as easie thence to move:O, let them see these heavenly beames, and in faire, letters reedA lesson, fit both sight and skill, Love and firme Love to breed.3Heare then, but then with wonder hear; see, but admiring see,No mortal gifts, no earthly fruts now heare diserned bee:See, doo you see this face: a face, nay image of the skyes:Of which, the two life-given lights are figured in her eyes:Heare you this soule-invading voyce, and count it but a voyce,The verie essence of their tunes, when Angls doo rejoyce.
Whose senses in so evil comfort their stepdame Nature laies,That ravishing delight in them most sweete tunes doth not raise,Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so cloid with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, & learne in wonders scholes,To be (in things past bounds of wit) fooles if they be not fooles.
Whose senses in so evil comfort their stepdame Nature laies,
That ravishing delight in them most sweete tunes doth not raise,
Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so cloid with wit,
As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:
O let them heare these sacred tunes, & learne in wonders scholes,
To be (in things past bounds of wit) fooles if they be not fooles.
2Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweete Beauties showe:Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to knowe;Or knowing have so muddie mindes, as not to be in love;Or loving, have so frothie hearts, as easie thence to move:O, let them see these heavenly beames, and in faire, letters reedA lesson, fit both sight and skill, Love and firme Love to breed.
2Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweete Beauties showe:
Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to knowe;
Or knowing have so muddie mindes, as not to be in love;
Or loving, have so frothie hearts, as easie thence to move:
O, let them see these heavenly beames, and in faire, letters reed
A lesson, fit both sight and skill, Love and firme Love to breed.
3Heare then, but then with wonder hear; see, but admiring see,No mortal gifts, no earthly fruts now heare diserned bee:See, doo you see this face: a face, nay image of the skyes:Of which, the two life-given lights are figured in her eyes:Heare you this soule-invading voyce, and count it but a voyce,The verie essence of their tunes, when Angls doo rejoyce.
3Heare then, but then with wonder hear; see, but admiring see,
No mortal gifts, no earthly fruts now heare diserned bee:
See, doo you see this face: a face, nay image of the skyes:
Of which, the two life-given lights are figured in her eyes:
Heare you this soule-invading voyce, and count it but a voyce,
The verie essence of their tunes, when Angls doo rejoyce.
In a grove most rich of shade;Where birds wanton Musicke made:Maiethen yong his pide weeds shewing,New perfumes with flowrs fresh growing.2AstrophelwithStellasweetDid for mutual comfort meeteBoth within themselves oppressed,But either in each other blessed.3Him great harmes had taught much care,Her faire necke a foule yoke bare:But hir sight his cares did banish,In his sight hir yoke did vanish.4Wept they had, alas the while:But now teares themselves did smile,While their eyes by Love directed,Interchangeably reflected.5Sighd they had: but now betwixtSighs of woe were glad sighs mixt:With armes crost, yet testifyingRestles rest, and living dying.6Their eares hungrie of each wordWhich the deare tongue would afford,But their tongues restrained from walking,Till their harts had ended talking.7But when their tongues could not speake,Love it selfe did silence breake:Love did set his lips asunderThus to speake in love and wonder.8Stella, Sovereigne of my joy,Faire Triumphres in annoy:Stella, Starre of heavenly fire,Stella, loadstarre of desire.9Stella, in whose shining eyesAre the lights ofCupidsskyes,Whose beames where they are once dartedLove there with is straight imparted.10Stella, whose voyce when it speakes,Sences all asunder breakes:Stella, whose voyce when it singethAngles to acquaintance bringeth.11Stella, in whose bodie isWrit the carecters of blis:Whose sweete face all beautie passeth,Save the minde which it surpasseth.12Graunt, ô graunt, but speach (alas)Failes me, fearing on to passe:Graunt to me, what am I saying?But no sinne there is in praying.13Graunt (ô Deare) on knees I pray(Knees on ground he then did stay)That not I, but since I prove you,Time and place from me nere move you.14Never season was more fit,Never roome more apt for it:Smiling aire allowes my reason:These birds sing; now use the season.15This small winde which so sweete is,See how it the leaves doth kis:Each tree in his best attyring,Sense of Love to Love inspiring.16Love makes earth the water drinke,Love to earth makes water sinke:And if dumb things be so wittie,Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie?17There his hands (in their speach) faineWould have made tongues language plaine:But her hands his hands compelling,Gave repulse, all grace expelling.18Therewithall, away she went,Leaving him with passion rent,With what she had done and spoken,That therewith my song is broken.
In a grove most rich of shade;Where birds wanton Musicke made:Maiethen yong his pide weeds shewing,New perfumes with flowrs fresh growing.2AstrophelwithStellasweetDid for mutual comfort meeteBoth within themselves oppressed,But either in each other blessed.3Him great harmes had taught much care,Her faire necke a foule yoke bare:But hir sight his cares did banish,In his sight hir yoke did vanish.4Wept they had, alas the while:But now teares themselves did smile,While their eyes by Love directed,Interchangeably reflected.5Sighd they had: but now betwixtSighs of woe were glad sighs mixt:With armes crost, yet testifyingRestles rest, and living dying.6Their eares hungrie of each wordWhich the deare tongue would afford,But their tongues restrained from walking,Till their harts had ended talking.7But when their tongues could not speake,Love it selfe did silence breake:Love did set his lips asunderThus to speake in love and wonder.8Stella, Sovereigne of my joy,Faire Triumphres in annoy:Stella, Starre of heavenly fire,Stella, loadstarre of desire.9Stella, in whose shining eyesAre the lights ofCupidsskyes,Whose beames where they are once dartedLove there with is straight imparted.10Stella, whose voyce when it speakes,Sences all asunder breakes:Stella, whose voyce when it singethAngles to acquaintance bringeth.11Stella, in whose bodie isWrit the carecters of blis:Whose sweete face all beautie passeth,Save the minde which it surpasseth.12Graunt, ô graunt, but speach (alas)Failes me, fearing on to passe:Graunt to me, what am I saying?But no sinne there is in praying.13Graunt (ô Deare) on knees I pray(Knees on ground he then did stay)That not I, but since I prove you,Time and place from me nere move you.14Never season was more fit,Never roome more apt for it:Smiling aire allowes my reason:These birds sing; now use the season.15This small winde which so sweete is,See how it the leaves doth kis:Each tree in his best attyring,Sense of Love to Love inspiring.16Love makes earth the water drinke,Love to earth makes water sinke:And if dumb things be so wittie,Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie?17There his hands (in their speach) faineWould have made tongues language plaine:But her hands his hands compelling,Gave repulse, all grace expelling.18Therewithall, away she went,Leaving him with passion rent,With what she had done and spoken,That therewith my song is broken.
In a grove most rich of shade;Where birds wanton Musicke made:Maiethen yong his pide weeds shewing,New perfumes with flowrs fresh growing.
In a grove most rich of shade;
Where birds wanton Musicke made:
Maiethen yong his pide weeds shewing,
New perfumes with flowrs fresh growing.
2AstrophelwithStellasweetDid for mutual comfort meeteBoth within themselves oppressed,But either in each other blessed.
2AstrophelwithStellasweet
Did for mutual comfort meete
Both within themselves oppressed,
But either in each other blessed.
3Him great harmes had taught much care,Her faire necke a foule yoke bare:But hir sight his cares did banish,In his sight hir yoke did vanish.
3Him great harmes had taught much care,
Her faire necke a foule yoke bare:
But hir sight his cares did banish,
In his sight hir yoke did vanish.
4Wept they had, alas the while:But now teares themselves did smile,While their eyes by Love directed,Interchangeably reflected.
4Wept they had, alas the while:
But now teares themselves did smile,
While their eyes by Love directed,
Interchangeably reflected.
5Sighd they had: but now betwixtSighs of woe were glad sighs mixt:With armes crost, yet testifyingRestles rest, and living dying.
5Sighd they had: but now betwixt
Sighs of woe were glad sighs mixt:
With armes crost, yet testifying
Restles rest, and living dying.
6Their eares hungrie of each wordWhich the deare tongue would afford,But their tongues restrained from walking,Till their harts had ended talking.
6Their eares hungrie of each word
Which the deare tongue would afford,
But their tongues restrained from walking,
Till their harts had ended talking.
7But when their tongues could not speake,Love it selfe did silence breake:Love did set his lips asunderThus to speake in love and wonder.
7But when their tongues could not speake,
Love it selfe did silence breake:
Love did set his lips asunder
Thus to speake in love and wonder.
8Stella, Sovereigne of my joy,Faire Triumphres in annoy:Stella, Starre of heavenly fire,Stella, loadstarre of desire.
8Stella, Sovereigne of my joy,
Faire Triumphres in annoy:
Stella, Starre of heavenly fire,
Stella, loadstarre of desire.
9Stella, in whose shining eyesAre the lights ofCupidsskyes,Whose beames where they are once dartedLove there with is straight imparted.
9Stella, in whose shining eyes
Are the lights ofCupidsskyes,
Whose beames where they are once darted
Love there with is straight imparted.
10Stella, whose voyce when it speakes,Sences all asunder breakes:Stella, whose voyce when it singethAngles to acquaintance bringeth.
10Stella, whose voyce when it speakes,
Sences all asunder breakes:
Stella, whose voyce when it singeth
Angles to acquaintance bringeth.
11Stella, in whose bodie isWrit the carecters of blis:Whose sweete face all beautie passeth,Save the minde which it surpasseth.
11Stella, in whose bodie is
Writ the carecters of blis:
Whose sweete face all beautie passeth,
Save the minde which it surpasseth.
12Graunt, ô graunt, but speach (alas)Failes me, fearing on to passe:Graunt to me, what am I saying?But no sinne there is in praying.
12Graunt, ô graunt, but speach (alas)
Failes me, fearing on to passe:
Graunt to me, what am I saying?
But no sinne there is in praying.
13Graunt (ô Deare) on knees I pray(Knees on ground he then did stay)That not I, but since I prove you,Time and place from me nere move you.
13Graunt (ô Deare) on knees I pray
(Knees on ground he then did stay)
That not I, but since I prove you,
Time and place from me nere move you.
14Never season was more fit,Never roome more apt for it:Smiling aire allowes my reason:These birds sing; now use the season.
14Never season was more fit,
Never roome more apt for it:
Smiling aire allowes my reason:
These birds sing; now use the season.
15This small winde which so sweete is,See how it the leaves doth kis:Each tree in his best attyring,Sense of Love to Love inspiring.
15This small winde which so sweete is,
See how it the leaves doth kis:
Each tree in his best attyring,
Sense of Love to Love inspiring.
16Love makes earth the water drinke,Love to earth makes water sinke:And if dumb things be so wittie,Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie?
16Love makes earth the water drinke,
Love to earth makes water sinke:
And if dumb things be so wittie,
Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie?
17There his hands (in their speach) faineWould have made tongues language plaine:But her hands his hands compelling,Gave repulse, all grace expelling.
17There his hands (in their speach) faine
Would have made tongues language plaine:
But her hands his hands compelling,
Gave repulse, all grace expelling.
18Therewithall, away she went,Leaving him with passion rent,With what she had done and spoken,That therewith my song is broken.
18Therewithall, away she went,
Leaving him with passion rent,
With what she had done and spoken,
That therewith my song is broken.
Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence,Seeke a better place of feeding,Where you may have some defenceFrom the stormes in my breast bleeding,And showers from mine eyes proceeding.2Leave a wretch in whom all woe,Can abide to keepe no measure;Merrie Flocke, such one forgoeUnto whom mirth is displeasure,Onely rich in measures treasure.3Yet alas before you goe,Heare your wofull Masters storie,Which to stones I else would showe;Sorrow onely then hath glorie,When tis excellently sorie.4Stella, fairest Shepheardesse,Fairest, but yet cruelst ever:Stella, whom the heavens still blesse,Though against me she persever,Though I blisse inherit never.5Stellahath refused mee,Stella, who more love hath provedIn this caitiffe hart to bee,Than can in good to us be movedTowards Lambkins best beloved.6Stellahath refused meeAstrophelthat so well served.In this plesant Spring (Muse) see,While in pride flowers be preserved,Himselfe onely, winter starved.7Why (alas) then doth she sweareThat she loveth me so deerely;Seeing me so long to beareCoales of love that burne so cleerly:And yet leave me hopelesse meerly.8Is that love? forsooth I trow.If I saw my good dogg grieved,And a helpe for him did know,My love should not be beleeved,But he were by me releeved.9No, she hates me (welaway)Faining love, somewhat to please me,Knowing if she should displayAll hate, death soone would seaze me,And of hideous torments ease me.10Then my deare Flocke now adieu:But alas, if in your strayingHeavenlyStellameete with you,Tell her in your piteous blayingHer poore Slaves just decaying.
Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence,Seeke a better place of feeding,Where you may have some defenceFrom the stormes in my breast bleeding,And showers from mine eyes proceeding.2Leave a wretch in whom all woe,Can abide to keepe no measure;Merrie Flocke, such one forgoeUnto whom mirth is displeasure,Onely rich in measures treasure.3Yet alas before you goe,Heare your wofull Masters storie,Which to stones I else would showe;Sorrow onely then hath glorie,When tis excellently sorie.4Stella, fairest Shepheardesse,Fairest, but yet cruelst ever:Stella, whom the heavens still blesse,Though against me she persever,Though I blisse inherit never.5Stellahath refused mee,Stella, who more love hath provedIn this caitiffe hart to bee,Than can in good to us be movedTowards Lambkins best beloved.6Stellahath refused meeAstrophelthat so well served.In this plesant Spring (Muse) see,While in pride flowers be preserved,Himselfe onely, winter starved.7Why (alas) then doth she sweareThat she loveth me so deerely;Seeing me so long to beareCoales of love that burne so cleerly:And yet leave me hopelesse meerly.8Is that love? forsooth I trow.If I saw my good dogg grieved,And a helpe for him did know,My love should not be beleeved,But he were by me releeved.9No, she hates me (welaway)Faining love, somewhat to please me,Knowing if she should displayAll hate, death soone would seaze me,And of hideous torments ease me.10Then my deare Flocke now adieu:But alas, if in your strayingHeavenlyStellameete with you,Tell her in your piteous blayingHer poore Slaves just decaying.
Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence,Seeke a better place of feeding,Where you may have some defenceFrom the stormes in my breast bleeding,And showers from mine eyes proceeding.
Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence,
Seeke a better place of feeding,
Where you may have some defence
From the stormes in my breast bleeding,
And showers from mine eyes proceeding.
2Leave a wretch in whom all woe,Can abide to keepe no measure;Merrie Flocke, such one forgoeUnto whom mirth is displeasure,Onely rich in measures treasure.
2Leave a wretch in whom all woe,
Can abide to keepe no measure;
Merrie Flocke, such one forgoe
Unto whom mirth is displeasure,
Onely rich in measures treasure.
3Yet alas before you goe,Heare your wofull Masters storie,Which to stones I else would showe;Sorrow onely then hath glorie,When tis excellently sorie.
3Yet alas before you goe,
Heare your wofull Masters storie,
Which to stones I else would showe;
Sorrow onely then hath glorie,
When tis excellently sorie.
4Stella, fairest Shepheardesse,Fairest, but yet cruelst ever:Stella, whom the heavens still blesse,Though against me she persever,Though I blisse inherit never.
4Stella, fairest Shepheardesse,
Fairest, but yet cruelst ever:
Stella, whom the heavens still blesse,
Though against me she persever,
Though I blisse inherit never.
5Stellahath refused mee,Stella, who more love hath provedIn this caitiffe hart to bee,Than can in good to us be movedTowards Lambkins best beloved.
5Stellahath refused mee,
Stella, who more love hath proved
In this caitiffe hart to bee,
Than can in good to us be moved
Towards Lambkins best beloved.
6Stellahath refused meeAstrophelthat so well served.In this plesant Spring (Muse) see,While in pride flowers be preserved,Himselfe onely, winter starved.
6Stellahath refused mee
Astrophelthat so well served.
In this plesant Spring (Muse) see,
While in pride flowers be preserved,
Himselfe onely, winter starved.
7Why (alas) then doth she sweareThat she loveth me so deerely;Seeing me so long to beareCoales of love that burne so cleerly:And yet leave me hopelesse meerly.
7Why (alas) then doth she sweare
That she loveth me so deerely;
Seeing me so long to beare
Coales of love that burne so cleerly:
And yet leave me hopelesse meerly.
8Is that love? forsooth I trow.If I saw my good dogg grieved,And a helpe for him did know,My love should not be beleeved,But he were by me releeved.
8Is that love? forsooth I trow.
If I saw my good dogg grieved,
And a helpe for him did know,
My love should not be beleeved,
But he were by me releeved.
9No, she hates me (welaway)Faining love, somewhat to please me,Knowing if she should displayAll hate, death soone would seaze me,And of hideous torments ease me.
9No, she hates me (welaway)
Faining love, somewhat to please me,
Knowing if she should display
All hate, death soone would seaze me,
And of hideous torments ease me.
10Then my deare Flocke now adieu:But alas, if in your strayingHeavenlyStellameete with you,Tell her in your piteous blayingHer poore Slaves just decaying.
10Then my deare Flocke now adieu:
But alas, if in your straying
HeavenlyStellameete with you,
Tell her in your piteous blaying
Her poore Slaves just decaying.
O Deare Life, when shall it bee,That mine eyes thine eyes shall see,And in them thy minde discover,Whether absence have had forceThy remembrance to divorceFrom the image of thy Lover?2O if I my selfe finde notBy thine absence oft forgot,Nor debard from Beauties treasure,Let no tongue aspire to tellIn what high joyes I shall dwell,Onely thought aimes at the pleasure.3Thought therefore will I send theeTo take up the place for mee,Long I will not after tarrie:There unseene thou maist be boldThose faire wonders to behold,Which in them my hopes do carrie.4Thought, see thou no place forbeare,Enter bravely everiewhere,Seaze on all to her belonging:But if thou wouldst garded bee,Fearing her beames, take with theeStrength of liking, rage of longing.5O my Thoughts, my Thoughts surcease,Your delights my woes encrease,My life fleetes with too much thinking:Thinke no more, but die in mee,Till thou shalt received bee,At her lips myNectardrinking.
O Deare Life, when shall it bee,That mine eyes thine eyes shall see,And in them thy minde discover,Whether absence have had forceThy remembrance to divorceFrom the image of thy Lover?2O if I my selfe finde notBy thine absence oft forgot,Nor debard from Beauties treasure,Let no tongue aspire to tellIn what high joyes I shall dwell,Onely thought aimes at the pleasure.3Thought therefore will I send theeTo take up the place for mee,Long I will not after tarrie:There unseene thou maist be boldThose faire wonders to behold,Which in them my hopes do carrie.4Thought, see thou no place forbeare,Enter bravely everiewhere,Seaze on all to her belonging:But if thou wouldst garded bee,Fearing her beames, take with theeStrength of liking, rage of longing.5O my Thoughts, my Thoughts surcease,Your delights my woes encrease,My life fleetes with too much thinking:Thinke no more, but die in mee,Till thou shalt received bee,At her lips myNectardrinking.
O Deare Life, when shall it bee,That mine eyes thine eyes shall see,And in them thy minde discover,Whether absence have had forceThy remembrance to divorceFrom the image of thy Lover?
O Deare Life, when shall it bee,
That mine eyes thine eyes shall see,
And in them thy minde discover,
Whether absence have had force
Thy remembrance to divorce
From the image of thy Lover?
2O if I my selfe finde notBy thine absence oft forgot,Nor debard from Beauties treasure,Let no tongue aspire to tellIn what high joyes I shall dwell,Onely thought aimes at the pleasure.
2O if I my selfe finde not
By thine absence oft forgot,
Nor debard from Beauties treasure,
Let no tongue aspire to tell
In what high joyes I shall dwell,
Onely thought aimes at the pleasure.
3Thought therefore will I send theeTo take up the place for mee,Long I will not after tarrie:There unseene thou maist be boldThose faire wonders to behold,Which in them my hopes do carrie.
3Thought therefore will I send thee
To take up the place for mee,
Long I will not after tarrie:
There unseene thou maist be bold
Those faire wonders to behold,
Which in them my hopes do carrie.
4Thought, see thou no place forbeare,Enter bravely everiewhere,Seaze on all to her belonging:But if thou wouldst garded bee,Fearing her beames, take with theeStrength of liking, rage of longing.
4Thought, see thou no place forbeare,
Enter bravely everiewhere,
Seaze on all to her belonging:
But if thou wouldst garded bee,
Fearing her beames, take with thee
Strength of liking, rage of longing.
5O my Thoughts, my Thoughts surcease,Your delights my woes encrease,My life fleetes with too much thinking:Thinke no more, but die in mee,Till thou shalt received bee,At her lips myNectardrinking.
5O my Thoughts, my Thoughts surcease,
Your delights my woes encrease,
My life fleetes with too much thinking:
Thinke no more, but die in mee,
Till thou shalt received bee,
At her lips myNectardrinking.
Finis Syr P. S.
Transcriber’s NoteList of changes made to the text to correct suspected printing errors (by comparison with other editions):Page 4, “romes” changed to “comes” (comes forth her grace).Page 17, “sume” changed to “some” (And of some sent).Page 17, “hormanship advaunc” changed to “horsmanship advaunce” (my skill in horsmanship advaunce).Page 26, “durssed” changed to “curssed” (curssed in my blisse).Page 26, “eloquene” changed to “eloquence” (with dumbe eloquence).Page 44, “love fooles” changed to “love. Fooles” (Doe _Stella_ love. Fooles, who doth it denie?).Page 47, “paise” changed to “praise” (all song of praise is due).Page 51, “hard” changed to “heard” (that heard not out).Page 52, “wrongs” changed to “wrongd” (Princes in subjects wrongd).Page 56, stanza number “2” added to the 7th sonnet.
List of changes made to the text to correct suspected printing errors (by comparison with other editions):
Page 4, “romes” changed to “comes” (comes forth her grace).
Page 17, “sume” changed to “some” (And of some sent).
Page 17, “hormanship advaunc” changed to “horsmanship advaunce” (my skill in horsmanship advaunce).
Page 26, “durssed” changed to “curssed” (curssed in my blisse).
Page 26, “eloquene” changed to “eloquence” (with dumbe eloquence).
Page 44, “love fooles” changed to “love. Fooles” (Doe _Stella_ love. Fooles, who doth it denie?).
Page 47, “paise” changed to “praise” (all song of praise is due).
Page 51, “hard” changed to “heard” (that heard not out).
Page 52, “wrongs” changed to “wrongd” (Princes in subjects wrongd).
Page 56, stanza number “2” added to the 7th sonnet.