Part 4
Three sorts of serpents doe resemble thee; That daungerous eye-killing Cockatrice, Th' inchaunting Syren, which doth so entice, The weeping Crocodile; these vile pernicious three. The Basiliske his nature takes from thee, Who for my life in secret wait do'st lye, And to my heart send'st poyson from thine eye: Thus do I feele the paine, the cause yet cannot see. Faire-mayd no more, but Mayr-maid be thy name, Who with thy sweet aluring harmony Hast playd the thiefe, and stolne my hart from me, And, like a Tyrant, mak'st my griefe thy game. The Crocodile, who, when thou hast me slaine, Lament'st my death with teares of thy disdaine.
Amour 31
Sitting alone, loue bids me goe and write; Reason plucks backe, commaunding me to stay, Boasting that shee doth still direct the way, Els senceles loue could neuer once indite. Loue, growing angry, vexed at the spleene, And scorning Reasons maymed Argument, Straight taxeth Reason, wanting to invent Where shee with Loue conuersing hath not beene. Reason, reproched with this coy disdaine, Dispighteth Loue, and laugheth at her folly, And Loue, contemning Reasons reason wholy, Thought her in weight too light by many a graine. Reason, put back, doth out of sight remoue, And Loue alone finds reason in my loue.
Amour 32
Those teares, which quench my hope, still kindle my desire, Those sighes, which coole my hart, are coles vnto my loue, Disdayne, Ice to my life, is to my soule a fire: With teares, sighes, and disdaine, this contrary I proue. Quenchles desire makes hope burne, dryes my teares, Loue heats my hart, my hart-heat my sighes warmeth; With my soules fire my life disdaine out-weares, Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, hart, and life charmeth. My hope becomes a friend to my desire, My hart imbraceth Loue, Loue doth imbrace my hart; My life a Phoenix is in my soules fire, From thence (they vow) they neuer will depart. Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, my hart, my life, With teares, sighes, and disdaine, shall haue immortal strife.
Amour 33
Whilst thus mine eyes doe surfet with delight, My wofull hart, imprisond in my breast, Wishing to be trans-formd into my sight, To looke on her by whom mine eyes are blest; But whilst mine eyes thus greedily doe gaze, Behold! their obiects ouer-soone depart, And treading in this neuer-ending maze, Wish now to be trans-formd into my hart: My hart, surcharg'd with thoughts, sighes in abundance raise, My eyes, made dim with lookes, poure down a flood of tears; And whilst my hart and eye enuy each others praise, My dying lookes and thoughts are peiz'd in equall feares: And thus, whilst sighes and teares together doe contende, Each one of these doth ayde vnto the other lende.
Amour 34
My fayre, looke from those turrets of thine eyes, Into the Ocean of a troubled minde, Where my poor soule, the Barke of sorrow, lyes, Left to the mercy of the waues and winde. See where she flotes, laden with purest loue, Which those fayre Ilands of thy lookes affoord, Desiring yet a thousand deaths to proue, Then so to cast her Ballase ouerboard. See how her sayles be rent, her tacklings worne, Her Cable broke, her surest Anchor lost: Her Marryners doe leaue her all forlorne, Yet how shee bends towards that blessed Coast! Loe! where she drownes in stormes of thy displeasure, Whose worthy prize should haue enricht thy treasure.
Amour 35
See, chaste _Diana_, where my harmles hart, Rouz'd from my breast, his sure and safest layre, Nor chaste by hound, nor forc'd by Hunters arte, Yet see how right he comes vnto my fayre. See how my Deere comes to thy Beauties stand, And there stands gazing on those darting eyes, Whilst from theyr rayes, by _Cupids_ skilfull hand, Into his hart the piercing Arrow flyes. See how he lookes vpon his bleeding wound, Whilst thus he panteth for his latest breath, And, looking on thee, falls vpon the ground, Smyling, as though he gloried in his death. And wallowing in his blood, some lyfe yet laft; His stone-cold lips doth kisse the blessed shaft.
Amour 36
Sweete, sleepe so arm'd with Beauties arrowes darting, Sleepe in thy Beauty, Beauty in sleepe appeareth; Sleepe lightning Beauty, Beauty sleepes, darknes cleereth, Sleepes wonder Beauty, wonders to worlds imparting. Sleep watching Beauty, Beauty waking, sleepe guarding Beauty in sleepe, sleepe in Beauty charmed, Sleepes aged coldnes with Beauties fire warmed, Sleepe with delight, Beauty with loue rewarding. Sleepe and Beauty, with equall forces stryuing, Beauty her strength vnto sleepes weaknes lending, Sleepe with Beauty, Beauty with sleepe contending, Yet others force the others force reuiuing, And others foe the others foe imbrace. Myne eyes beheld thys conflict in thy face.
Amour 37
I euer loue where neuer hope appeares, Yet hope drawes on my neuer-hoping care, And my liues hope would die but for dyspaire; My neuer certaine ioy breeds euer-certaine feares. Vncertaine dread gyues wings vnto my hope, Yet my hopes wings are loden so with feare, As they cannot ascend to my hopes spheare, Yet feare gyues them more then a heauenly scope. Yet this large roome is bounded with dyspaire, So my loue is still fettered with vaine hope, And lyberty depriues him of hys scope, And thus am I imprisond in the ayre: Then, sweet Dispaire, awhile hold vp thy head, Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead.
Amour 38
If chaste and pure deuotion of my youth, Or glorie of my Aprill-springing yeeres, Vnfained loue in naked simple truth, A thousand vowes, a thousand sighes and teares; Or if a world of faithful seruice done, Words, thoughts, and deeds deuoted to her honor, Or eyes that haue beheld her as theyr sunne, With admiration euer looking on her: A lyfe that neuer ioyd but in her loue, A soule that euer hath ador'd her name, A fayth that time nor fortune could not moue, A Muse that vnto heauen hath raised her fame. Though these, nor these deserue to be imbraced, Yet, faire vnkinde, too good to be disgraced.
Amour 39
Die, die, my soule, and neuer taste of ioy, If sighes, nor teares, nor vowes, nor prayers can moue; If fayth and zeale be but esteemd a toy, And kindnes be vnkindnes in my loue. Then, with vnkindnes, Loue, reuenge thy wrong: O sweet'st reuenge that ere the heauens gaue! And with the swan record thy dying song, And praise her still to thy vntimely graue. So in loues death shall loues perfection proue That loue diuine which I haue borne to you, By doome concealed to the heauens aboue, That yet the world vnworthy neuer knew; Whose pure _Idea_ neuer tongue exprest: I feele, you know, the heauens can tell the rest.
Amour 40
O thou vnkindest fayre! most fayrest shee, In thine eyes tryumph murthering my poore hart, Now doe I sweare by heauens, before we part, My halfe-slaine hart shall take reuenge on thee. Thy mother dyd her lyfe to death resigne, And thou an Angell art, and from aboue; Thy father was a man, that will I proue, Yet thou a Goddesse art, and so diuine. And thus, if thou be not of humaine kinde, A Bastard on both sides needes must thou be; Our Lawes allow no land to basterdy: By natures Lawes we thee a bastard finde. Then hence to heauen, vnkind, for thy childs part: Goe bastard goe, for sure of thence thou art.
Amour 41
Rare of-spring of my thoughts, my dearest Loue, Begot by fancy on sweet hope exhortiue, In whom all purenes with perfection stroue, Hurt in the Embryon makes my ioyes abhortiue. And you, my sighes, Symtomas of my woe, The dolefull Anthems of my endelesse care, Lyke idle Ecchoes euer answering; so, The mournfull accents of my loues dispayre. And thou, Conceite, the shadow of my blisse, Declyning with the setting of my sunne, Springing with that, and fading straight with this, Now hast thou end, and now thou wast begun: Now was thy pryme, and loe! is now thy waine; Now wast thou borne, now in thy cradle slayne.
Amour 42
Plac'd in the forlorne hope of all dispayre Against the Forte where Beauties Army lies, Assayld with death, yet armed with gastly feare, Loe! thus my loue, my lyfe, my fortune tryes. Wounded with Arrowes from thy lightning eyes, My tongue in payne my harts counsels bewraying, My rebell thought for me in Ambushe lyes, To my lyues foe her Chieftaine still betraying. Record my loue in Ocean waues (vnkind) Cast my desarts into the open ayre, Commit my words vnto the fleeting wind, Cancell my name, and blot it with dispayre; So shall I bee as I had neuer beene, Nor my disgraces to the world be seene.
Amour 43
Why doe I speake of ioy, or write of loue, When my hart is the very Den of horror, And in my soule the paynes of hell I proue, With all his torments and infernall terror? Myne eyes want teares thus to bewayle my woe, My brayne is dry with weeping all too long; My sighes be spent with griefe and sighing so, And I want words for to expresse my wrong. But still, distracted in loues lunacy, And Bedlam like thus rauing in my griefe, Now rayle vpon her hayre, now on her eye, Now call her Goddesse, then I call her thiefe; Now I deny her, then I doe confesse her, Now I doe curse her, then againe I blesse her.
Amour 44
My hart the Anuile where my thoughts doe beate, My words the hammers fashioning my desire, My breast the forge, including all the heate, Loue is the fuell which maintaines the fire: My sighes the bellowes which the flame increaseth, Filling mine eares with noise and nightly groning, Toyling with paine my labour neuer ceaseth, In greeuous passions my woes styll bemoning. Myne eyes with teares against the fire stryuing, With scorching gleed my hart to cynders turneth; But with those drops the coles againe reuyuing, Still more and more vnto my torment burneth. With _Sisiphus_ thus doe I role the stone, And turne the wheele with damned _Ixion_.
Amour 45
Blacke pytchy Night, companyon of my woe, The Inne of care, the Nurse of drery sorrow, Why lengthnest thou thy darkest howres so, Still to prolong my long tyme lookt-for morrow? Thou Sable shadow, Image of dispayre, Portraite of hell, the ayres black mourning weed, Recorder of reuenge, remembrancer of care, The shadow and the vaile of euery sinfull deed. Death like to thee, so lyue thou still in death, The graue of ioy, prison of dayes delight. Let heauens withdraw their sweet Ambrozian breath, Nor Moone nor stars lend thee their shining light; For thou alone renew'st that olde desire, Which still torments me in dayes burning fire.
Amour 46
Sweete secrecie, what tongue can tell thy worth? What mortall pen sufficiently can prayse thee? What curious Pensill serues to lim thee forth? What Muse hath power aboue thy height to raise thee? Strong locke of kindnesse, Closet of loues store, Harts Methridate, the soules preseruatiue; O vertue! which all vertues doe adore, Cheefe good, from whom all good things wee deriue. O rare effect! true bond of friendships measure, Conceite of Angels, which all wisdom teachest; O, richest Casket of all heauenly treasure, In secret silence which such wonders preachest. O purest mirror! wherein men may see The liuely Image of Diuinitie.
Amour 47
The golden Sunne vpon his fiery wheeles The horned Ram doth in his course awake, And of iust length our night and day doth make, Flinging the Fishes backward with his heeles: Then to the Tropicke takes his full Careere, Trotting his sun-steeds till the Palfrays sweat, Bayting the Lyon in his furious heat, Till Virgins smyles doe sound his sweet reteere. But my faire Planet, who directs me still, Vnkindly such distemperature doth bring, Makes Summer Winter, Autumne in the Spring, Crossing sweet nature by vnruly will. Such is the sunne who guides my youthfull season, Whose thwarting course depriues the world of reason.
Amour 48
Who list to praise the dayes delicious lyght, Let him compare it to her heauenly eye, The sun-beames to the lustre of her sight; So may the learned like the similie. The mornings Crimson to her lyps alike, The sweet of _Eden_ to her breathes perfume, The fayre _Elizia_ to her fayrer cheeke, Vnto her veynes the onely Phoenix plume. The Angels tresses to her tressed hayre, The _Galixia_ to her more then white. Praysing the fayrest, compare it to my faire, Still naming her in naming all delight. So may he grace all these in her alone, Superlatiue in all comparison.
Amour 49
Define my loue, and tell the ioyes of heauen, Expresse my woes, and shew the paynes of hell; Declare what fate vnlucky starres haue giuen, And aske a world vpon my life to dwell. Make knowne that fayth vnkindnes could not moue; Compare my worth with others base desert: Let vertue be the tuch-stone of my loue, So may the heauens reade wonders in my hart. Behold the Clowdes which haue eclips'd my sunne, And view the crosses which my course doth let; Tell mee, if euer since the world begunne, So faire a Morning had so foule a set? And, by all meanes, let black vnkindnes proue The patience of so rare, diuine a loue.
Amour 50
When I first ended, then I first began; The more I trauell, further from my rest; Where most I lost, there most of all I wan; Pyned with hunger, rysing from a feast. Mee thinks I flee, yet want I legs to goe, Wise in conceite, in acte a very sot; Rauisht with ioy amidst a hell of woe, What most I seeme, that surest I am not. I build my hopes a world aboue the skye, Yet with a Mole I creepe into the earth: In plenty am I staru'd with penury, And yet I serfet in the greatest dearth. I haue, I want, dispayre, and yet desire, Burn'd in a Sea of Ice, and drown'd amidst a fire.
Amour 51
Goe you, my lynes, Embassadours of loue, With my harts tribute to her conquering eyes, From whence, if you one tear of pitty moue For all my woes, that onely shall suffise. When you _Minerua_ in the sunne behold, At her perfections stand you then and gaze, Where in the compasse of a Marygold, _Meridianis_ sits within a maze. And let Inuention of her beauty vaunt When _Dorus_ sings his sweet Pamelas loue, And tell the Gods, _Mars_ is predominant, Seated with _Sol_, and weares Mineruas gloue: And tell the world, that in the world there is A heauen on earth, on earth no heauen but this.
FINIS.
[from the Edition of 1599]
Sonet 1
The worlds faire Rose, and _Henries_ frosty fire, Iohns tyrannie; and chast _Matilda's_ wrong, Th'inraged Queene, and furious _Mortimer_, The scourge of Fraunce, and his chast loue I song; Deposed _Richard_, _Isabell_ exil'd, The gallant _Tudor_, and fayre _Katherine_, Duke _Humfrey_, and old _Cobhams_ haplesse child, Couragious _Pole_, and that braue spiritfull Queene; _Edward_, and that delicious London Dame, _Brandon_, and that rich dowager of Fraunce, _Surrey_, with his fayre paragon of fame, _Dudleys_ mishap, and vertuous _Grays_ mischance; Their seuerall loues since I before haue showne, Now giue me leaue at last to sing mine owne.
Sonet 2
_To the Reader of his Poems_
Into these loues who but for passion lookes, At this first sight, here let him lay them by, And seeke elsewhere in turning other bookes, Which better may his labour satisfie. No far-fetch'd sigh shall euer wound my brest, Loue from mine eye, a teare shall neuer wring, Nor in ah-mees my whyning Sonets drest, (A Libertine) fantasticklie I sing; My verse is the true image of my mind, Euer in motion, still desiring change, To choyce of all varietie inclin'd, And in all humors sportiuely I range; My actiue Muse is of the worlds right straine, That cannot long one fashion entertaine.
Sonet 3
Many there be excelling in this kind, Whose well trick'd rimes with all inuention swell, Let each commend as best shall like his minde, Some _Sidney_, _Constable_, some _Daniell_. That thus theyr names familiarly I sing, Let none think them disparaged to be, Poore men with reuerence may speake of a King, And so may these be spoken of by mee; My wanton verse nere keepes one certaine stay, But now, at hand; then, seekes inuention far, And with each little motion runnes astray, Wilde, madding, iocond, and irreguler; Like me that lust, my honest merry rimes, Nor care for Criticke, nor regard the times.
Sonet 5
My hart was slaine, and none but you and I, Who should I thinke the murder should commit? Since but your selfe, there was no creature by But onely I, guiltlesse of murth'ring it. It slew it selfe; the verdict on the view Doe quit the dead and me not accessarie; Well, well, I feare it will be prou'd by you, The euidence so great a proofe doth carry. But O, see, see, we need enquire no further, Vpon your lips the scarlet drops are found, And in your eye, the boy that did the murther, Your cheekes yet pale since first they gaue the wound. By this, I see, how euer things be past, Yet heauen will still haue murther out at last.
Sonet 8
Nothing but no and I, and I and no, How falls it out so strangely you reply? I tell yee (Faire) Ile not be aunswered so, With this affirming no, denying I, I say I loue, you slightly aunswer I? I say you loue, you pule me out a no; I say I die, you eccho me with I, Saue me I cry, you sigh me out a no: Must woe and I, haue naught but no and I? No, I am I, If I no more can haue, Aunswer no more, with silence make reply, And let me take my selfe what I doe craue; Let no and I, with I and you be so, Then aunswer no, and I, and I, and no.
Sonet 9
Loue once would daunce within my Mistres eye, And wanting musique fitting for the place, Swore that I should the Instrument supply, And sodainly presents me with her face: Straightwayes my pulse playes liuely in my vaines, My panting breath doth keepe a meaner time, My quau'ring artiers be the Tenours Straynes, My trembling sinewes serue the Counterchime, My hollow sighs the deepest base doe beare, True diapazon in distincted sound: My panting hart the treble makes the ayre, And descants finely on the musiques ground; Thus like a Lute or Violl did I lye, Whilst the proud slaue daunc'd galliards in her eye.
Sonet 10
Loue in an humor played the prodigall, And bids my sences to a solemne feast, Yet more to grace the company withall, Inuites my heart to be the chiefest guest; No other drinke would serue this gluttons turne, But precious teares distilling from mine eyne, Which with my sighs this Epicure doth burne, Quaffing carouses in this costly wine, Where, in his cups or'come with foule excesse, Begins to play a swaggering Ruffins part, And at the banquet, in his drunkennes, Slew my deare friend, his kind and truest hart; A gentle warning, friends, thus may you see What 'tis to keepe a drunkard company.
Sonet 11
_To the Moone_
Phæbe looke downe, and here behold in mee, The elements within thy sphere inclosed, How kindly Nature plac'd them vnder thee, And in my world, see how they are disposed; My hope is earth, the lowest, cold and dry, The grosser mother of deepe melancholie, Water my teares, coold with humidity, Wan, flegmatick, inclind by nature wholie; My sighs, the ayre, hote, moyst, ascending hier, Subtile of sanguine, dy'de in my harts dolor, My thoughts, they be the element of fire, Hote, dry, and piercing, still inclind to choller, Thine eye the Orbe vnto all these, from whence, Proceeds th' effects of powerfull influence.
Sonet 12
To nothing fitter can I thee compare, Then to the sonne of some rich penyfather, Who hauing now brought on his end with care, Leaues to his son all he had heap'd together; This newe rich nouice, lauish of his chest, To one man giues, and on another spends, Then here he ryots, yet amongst the rest, Haps to lend some to one true honest friend. Thy gifts thou in obscuritie doost wast, False friends thy kindnes, borne but to deceiue thee, Thy loue, that is on the unworthy plac'd, Time hath thy beauty, which with age will leaue thee; Onely that little which to me was lent, I giue thee back, when all the rest is spent.
Sonet 13
You not alone, when you are still alone, O God from you that I could priuate be, Since you one were, I neuer since was one, Since you in me, my selfe since out of me Transported from my selfe into your beeing Though either distant, present yet to eyther, Senceles with too much ioy, each other seeing, And onely absent when we are together. Giue me my selfe, and take your selfe againe, Deuise some means but how I may forsake you, So much is mine that doth with you remaine, That taking what is mine, with me I take you, You doe bewitch me, O that I could flie From my selfe you, or from your owne selfe I.
Sonet 14
_To the Soule_
That learned Father which so firmly proues The soule of man immortall and diuine, And doth the seuerall offices define, _Anima._ Giues her that name as shee the body moues, _Amor._ Then is she loue imbracing Charitie, _Animus._ Mouing a will in vs, it is the mind, _Mens._ Retayning knowledge, still the same in kind; _Memoria._ As intelectuall it is the memorie, _Ratio._ In judging, Reason onely is her name, _Sensus._ In speedy apprehension it is sence, _Conscientia._ In right or wrong, they call her conscience. _Spiritus._ The spirit, when it to Godward doth inflame. These of the soule the seuerall functions bee, Which my hart lightned by thy loue doth see.
Sonet 21
You cannot loue my pretty hart, and why? There was a time, you told me that you would, But now againe you will the same deny, If it might please you, would to God you could; What will you hate? nay, that you will not neither, Nor loue, nor hate, how then? what will you do, What will you keepe a meane then betwixt eyther? Or will you loue me, and yet hate me to? Yet serues not this, what next, what other shift? You will, and will not, what a coyle is heere, I see your craft, now I perceaue your drift, And all this while, I was mistaken there. Your loue and hate is this, I now doe proue you, You loue in hate, by hate to make me loue you.
Sonet 22