Part 4

Envious wits what hath beene mine offence, That with such poisoned eare my wits you marke, That to each word, nay sigh of mine you harke, As grudging me my sorrows eloquence? Ah, is it not enough, that I am thence: Thence, so farre thence, that scantly anie sparke Of comfort dare come to this dungeon darke Where rigorous exile lockes up al my sense: But if I by a happie window passe, If I but Starres uppon mine Armour beare, Sicke, thirstie, glad (though but of empty glasse) Your morals note straight my hid meaning there, From out my ribs a whirlewind proves that I Doe _Stella_ love. Fooles, who doth it denie?

Unhappie sight and hath shee vanisht by, So neere, in so good time so free a place, Dead glasse dost thou thine object so imbrase, As what my hart still sees thou canst not spie, I sweare by hir Love and my lacke, that I Was not in fault that bent my dazling race Onely unto the heaven of _Stella’s_ face, Counting but dust that in her way did lie: But cease mine eyes, your teares doe witnes well, That you guiltles therefore your necklace mist, Curst be the Page from whome the bad torch fell, Curst be the night which did your will resist, Curst be the Cochman that did drive so fast, With no lesse curse then absence makes me tast.

O absent presence _Stella_ is not here, False flattering hope that with so faire a face, Bare me in hand that in this Orphane place, _Stella_ I saw, my _Stella_ should appeare, What saist thou now, where is that dainty cleare Thou wouldst mine eyes should helpe their famisht case: But how art thou? now that selfe felt disgrace Doth make me most to wish thy comfort neere, But heere I doe shore of faire Ladies meete, Who may with charme of conversation sweete Make in my heavie mould new thoughts to grow: Sure they prevaile as much with me, as he That bad his frind but then new maimde to be Merrie with him, and so forget his woe.

_Stella_ since thou so right a Princesse art Of all the Powers which life bestowe on me, That ere by them ought undertaken be, They first resort unto that soveraigne part; Sweete for a time give respite to my heart, Which pants as though it still should leape to thee: And on my thought give the Lieuetenancie To this great cause, which needes both wit and Art, And as a Queene who from her presence sends Whom shee emploies, dismisse from thee my wit, Still to have wrought that thy owne will attends, For servants shame of Maisters blame doth fit. O let not Fooles in me thy works approve, And scorning say, see what it is to love.

When sorrow (using my owne Siers might) Melts downe his lead into my boyling brest, Through that darke Furnace of my heart opprest, There shines a joy from thee my onely light: But soone as thought of thee breeds my delight, And my young soule once flutters to her nest, Most dead dispaire my daily unbidden guest Clips strait my wings, strait wraps me in his night, And makes me then bow downe my head and say, Ah what doth _Phœbus_ gold that wretch availe, Whom Iron darts doth keepe from use of daie, So strangely (alas) thy workes on me prevaile, That in my woes for thee, thou art my joy; And in my joyes for thee, my onel’ anoy.

_Other Sonnets of variable verse._

_First Sonnet._

Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth, Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth? To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely in _you_ my song begins and endeth.

_2_ Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure, Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure: To _you_, to _you_, all song of praise be due, Onely for _you_ the heavens forget all measure.

_3_ Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth, Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely by _you_ _Cupid_ his crowne maintaineth.

_4_ Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth, Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely to _you_ her scepter _Venus_ granteth.

_5_ Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish, Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely through _you_ the tree of life doth floorish.

_6_ Who hath the hand which without stroke subdueth Who long hid beautie with encrease renueth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Only at _you_ all envie hopelesse endeth.

_7_ Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth, Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely of _you_ the flatterer never lieth.

_8_ Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders, Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders? To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely with _you_ no miracles are wonders.

_9_ Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth, Which now my breast orechargd with Musick lendeth? To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely in _you_ my song begins and endeth.

_Second Sonnet._

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.

_2_ Since 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.

_3_ Her tongue waking still refuseth, Giving franklie niggard no: Now will I attempt to knowe, What no her tongue sleeping useth.

_4_ See the hand that waking gardeth, Sleeping grants a free resort: Now I will invade the fort. Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.

_5_ But (O foole) thinke of the danger Of her just and high disdaine. Now will I (alas) refraine Love feares nothing else but anger.

_6_ Yet those lippes so sweetly swelling, Do invite a stealing kisse; Now but venture will I this, Who will read must first learne spelling.

_7_ Oh 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.

_The third Sonnet._

If _Orpheus_ voyce had force to breathe such musicks Love Through pores of senseles trees, as it could make them move: If stones good measure daunst the _Thebane_ walls to builde, To cadens of the tunes which _Amphions_ Lyre did yeeld, More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth. O stones, ô trees, learne hearing, _Stella_ singeth.

_2_ If Love might sweeten so a boy of Shepheards brood, To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loves food: If Eagle fierce could so in _Grecian_ maide 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; for _Stella_ shineth.

_3_ The 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?

_The fourth Sonnet._

Onely _Joy_, 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._

_2_ Night hath closde all in her cloke, Twinkling starres love thoughts provoke, Danger hence good care doth keepe, _Jelouzie_ him selfe doth sleepe: Take me to thee, and thee to mee.

_No no no no, my Deare let bee._

_3_ Better place no wit can finde _Cupids_ knot 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._

_4_ This 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._

_5_ That 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._

_6_ Niggard 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._

_7_ Your 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._

_8_ Sweete, alas why strive you thus? Concord better fitteth us; Leave to _Mars_ the 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._

_9_ Woe 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._

_The fifth Sonnet._

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.

_2_ I 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 fingers _Cupids_ shafts, thy voice the Angels lay: And all is said so well, that no man it denied.

_3_ But 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.

_4_ Then 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.

_5_ And 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.

_6_ Your client poore, my selfe, shall _Stella_ handle 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.

_7_ Thinke 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.

_8_ Yet 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: But _thou_, 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.

_9_ Yet 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.

_10_ But 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.

_11_ Loe 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.

_12_ But 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 wearing _Venus_ badge, in every part of thee, Unto _Dianaes_ traine thou runnaway didst flie: Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.

_13_ What is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here: A _Witch_ I 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.

_14_ Yet 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.

_15_ You 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.

_The Sixth Sonnet._

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.

_2_ This 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.

_3_ Thus 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.

_4_ For Beautie beautifies With heavenly view and grace, The heavenly harmonie; And in this faultles face The perfect beauties bee, A perfect harmonie.

_5_ Musick more lustie swels In speeches nobly placed, Beautie as farre excels In actions aptly graced. A friend each partie drawes, To countenance his cause.

_6_ Love 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.

_7_ Musicke 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.

_8_ The 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.

_9_ Then 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.

_The Seventh Sonnet._

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.

_2_ Who 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.

_3_ Heare 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.

_The eighth Sonnet._

In a grove most rich of shade; Where birds wanton Musicke made: _Maie_ then yong his pide weeds shewing, New perfumes with flowrs fresh growing.

_2_ _Astrophel_ with _Stella_ sweet Did for mutual comfort meete Both within themselves oppressed, But either in each other blessed.

_3_ Him 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.

_4_ Wept they had, alas the while: But now teares themselves did smile, While their eyes by Love directed, Interchangeably reflected.

_5_ Sighd they had: but now betwixt Sighs of woe were glad sighs mixt: With armes crost, yet testifying Restles rest, and living dying.

_6_ Their eares hungrie of each word Which the deare tongue would afford, But their tongues restrained from walking, Till their harts had ended talking.

_7_ But 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.

_8_ _Stella_, Sovereigne of my joy, Faire Triumphres in annoy: _Stella_, Starre of heavenly fire, _Stella_, loadstarre of desire.

_9_ _Stella_, in whose shining eyes Are the lights of _Cupids_ skyes, Whose beames where they are once darted Love there with is straight imparted.

_10_ _Stella_, whose voyce when it speakes, Sences all asunder breakes: _Stella_, whose voyce when it singeth Angles to acquaintance bringeth.

_11_ _Stella_, in whose bodie is Writ the carecters of blis: Whose sweete face all beautie passeth, Save the minde which it surpasseth.

_12_ Graunt, 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.

_13_ Graunt (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.

_14_ Never season was more fit, Never roome more apt for it: Smiling aire allowes my reason: These birds sing; now use the season.

_15_ This 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.

_16_ Love makes earth the water drinke, Love to earth makes water sinke: And if dumb things be so wittie, Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie?

_17_ There his hands (in their speach) faine Would have made tongues language plaine: But her hands his hands compelling, Gave repulse, all grace expelling.

_18_ Therewithall, away she went, Leaving him with passion rent, With what she had done and spoken, That therewith my song is broken.

_The ninth Sonnet._

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.

_2_ Leave 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.

_3_ Yet 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.

_4_ _Stella_, fairest Shepheardesse, Fairest, but yet cruelst ever: _Stella_, whom the heavens still blesse, Though against me she persever, Though I blisse inherit never.

_5_ _Stella_ hath 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.

_6_ _Stella_ hath refused mee _Astrophel_ that so well served. In this plesant Spring (Muse) see, While in pride flowers be preserved, Himselfe onely, winter starved.

_7_ Why (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.

_8_ Is 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.

_9_ No, 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.

_10_ Then my deare Flocke now adieu: But alas, if in your straying Heavenly _Stella_ meete with you, Tell her in your piteous blaying Her poore Slaves just decaying.

_The Tenth Sonnet._

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?

_2_ O 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.

_3_ Thought 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.

_4_ Thought, 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.

_5_ O 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 my _Nectar_ drinking.

Finis Syr P. S.

Transcriber’s Note

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.