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Whenas my nymph, impatient of the night,
Bade bright Astrseus* with his train give place,
Whiles she led forth the day with her fair faco,

And lent each star a more than Delian light.

Not Jove or Nature, should they both agree
To make a woman of the firmament,
Of his mix'd purity could not invent

A sky-born form t so beautiful as she.

MELICERTUS' MADRIGAL. What are my sheep without their wonted food? What is my life except I gain my love? My sheep consume and faint for want of blood, My life is lost unless I grace approve:

No flower that sapless thrives,

No turtle without fere.J

The day without the sun doth lour for woe,
Then woe mine eyes, unless thoy beauty see;
My sun Samela's eyes, by whom I know
Wherein delight consists, where pleasures be:

Naught more the heart revives

Than to embrace his dear.

The stars from earthly humours gain their light,
Our humours by their light possess their power;
Samela's eyes, fed by my weeping sight,
Infuse § my pain or joys by smile or lour:

So wends the source of love;

It feeds, it fails, it ends.

Kind looks, clear to your joy behold her eyes,
Admire her heart, desire to taste her kisses;
In them the heaven of joy and solace lies,
Without them every hope his succour misses:

0, how I love to prove

Whereto this solace tends!

MENAPHONS SONG IN HIS BED. Yon restless cares, companions of the night, That wrap my joys in folds of endless woes, Tire l| on my heart, and wound it with your spite, Since love and fortune prove my equal foes:

Attraiu] Tho father of tho primeval stars: vido Aratus, *AIN. 98; and coniparo Marlowe's Dido,Workt, p. 252, ed. Dyco, 1858.

t A ehj-born form, &c.] The Rev. J. Mitford (Gent. Mag. for March 1833, p. 218) remarks that this passage is borrowed, with some alterations, by tho author of The Thracian Wonder, a play falsely ascribed to Webster (sea Webster's Workt, iv. 211, od. Dyco, 1830); and that Collins (Ode to Afcjrv) has adopted from our text tho expression "Gentlest oi iky-born formt," Ac.

X fere} i. e. mate.

§ /n/m<l Tho 4to. oflS89 "Insues"; that of 1610 "Infudes." H Tire] i.e. prey.

Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy days;
Welcome sweet grief, the subject of my lays.

Mourn heavens, mourn earth; your shepherd is

forlorn; [bower;

Mourn times and hours, since bale invades my

Curse every tongue the place where I was born,

Curse every thought the life which makes me


Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy days;

Welcome sweet grief, the subject of my lays.

Wa3 I not free? was I not fancy's aim?
Fram'd not desire my face to front disdain?
I was; she did; but now one silly maim
Makes me to droop, as ho whom love hath slain:

Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy days;

Welcome sweet grief, the subject of my lays.

Yet drooping, and yet living to this death,
I sigh, I sue for pity at her shrine,
Whose fiery eyes exhale my vital breath,
And make my flocks with parching heat to pine:

Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy days;

Welcome sweet grief, the subject of my lays.

Fade they, die I : long may she live to bliss, That feeds * a wanton fire with fuel of her form, And makes perpetual summer where she is; Whiles I do cry, o'ertook with envy's storm,

"Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy days;

Welcome sweet grief, the Bubject of my lays."

SONG. Fair fields, proud Flora's vaunt, why is't you

Whenas I languish? [smile

You golden meads, why strive you to beguile

My weeping anguish 1
I live to sorrow, you to pleasure spring;

Why do you spring thus?
What, will not Boreas, tempest's wrathful king,

Take some pity on us, And send forth winter in her rusty weed,

To wail t my bemoanings, J Whiles I distress'd do tune my country-reed

Unto my groanings? But heaven, and earth, time, place, and every

Have with her oonspir'd [power To turn my blissful sweets to baleful sour,

Since fond I desir'd

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The heaven whereto my thoughts may not aspire.

Ay me, unhappy!
It was my fault t' embrace my bane, the fire

That forceth me die.
Mine be the pain, but her's the cruel cause

Of this strange torment; Wherefore no time my banning prayers shall pause

Till proud she repent.

Too weak the wit, too slender is the brain,
That means to mark the power and worth of loye;
Not one that lives, except he hap to prove,
Can tell the sweet, or tell the secret pain.

Yet I that have been prentice to the grief,
Like to the cunning sea-man, from afar,
By guess will take * the beauty of that star
Whose influence must yield me chief relief.

You censors of the glory of my dear,
With reverence and lowly bent of knee,
Attend and mark what her perfections be;
For in my words my fancies shall appear.

Her locks are plighted like the fleece of wool
That Jason with his Grecian mates achiev'd ; t
As pure as gold, yet not from gold deriv'd;
As full of sweets as sweet of sweets is full.

Her brows are pretty tables of conceit,
Where Love his records of delight doth quote;
On them her dallying locks do daily float,
As Love full oft doth feed upon the bait

Her eyes, fair eyes, like to the purest lights
That animate the sun or cheer the day;
In whom the Bhining Bunbeama brightly play,
Whiles Fancy doth on them divine delights.

Her cheeks like ripen'd lilies steep'd in wine,
Or fair pomegranate-kernels wash'd in milk.
Or snow-white threads in nets of crimson silk,
Or gorgeous clouds upon the Bun's decline.

take] The 4to. of 1589 "talke."

t Her locks areplighted Me the fleece of vool

Thai Jason with his Grecian mates achiev'd]plighted, i. o. plaited, braided.—It is possible that Shakespeare recollected these lines when he wrote the followiug; *' Her sunny locks Hang on her temples liko a golden fleece; Which makes her seat of Iklmont Colchos' strand, And many Jasous come in quest of her."

The Mtrchant of Vance, act i. Bc. 1.

Her lips are roses over-wash'd with dew,

Or like the purple of Narcissus' flower;

No frost their fair,* no wind doth waste their

But by her breath her beauties do renew.

Her crystal chin like to the purest mould
Enchas'd with dainty daisies soft and white,
Where Fancy's fair pavilion once is pight,t
Whereas embrae'd his beauties he doth hold.

Her neck like to an ivory shining tower,
Wherethrough with azure veins sweet nectar

runs, Or like the down of swans where SeneBSe wons, J Or like delight that doth itself devour.

Her paps are like fair apples in the prime,

As round as orient pearls, as soft as down;

They never vail§ their fair through winter's frown,

But from their sweets Lovo sucks || his summertime.

Her body Beauty's best-esteemed bower,
Delicious, comely, dainty, without stain;
The thought whereof (not touch) hath wrought

my pain;
Whose fair all fair and beauties doth devour.

Her maiden mount, the dwelling-house of Plea-
Not like, for why *^ no like surpasseth wonder:
0, blest is he may bring such beauties under,
Or search by suit the secrets of that treasure!

Devour'd in thought, how wanders my device!
What rests behind I must divine upon:
Who talks the best can say but "Fairer none ";
Few words well-couch'd do most content the

All you that hear, let not my silly style
Condemn my zeal; for what my tongue should

say Serves to enforce my thoughts to seek the way Whereby my woes and cares I do beguile.

* fair] i. e. beauty.

t piffht] i. e, pitched.

I Kon*] i. e. dwells.

§ vail\ i. e. lower, let fall,—diminish,

|| tucks] Both 4tos. "suck'd."

•J for why] i. e. because.

Seld speaketh Love, but sighs his * secret pains; Tears are his truchmen,+ words do make him

tremble: How sweet is Love to them that can dissemble In thoughts and looks till they have reap'd the


All lonely I complain,^ and what I say
I think, yet what I think tongue cannot tell:
Sweet censors, take my silly worst for well;
My faith is firm, though homely be my lay.


Wha» need compare where sweet exceeds compare?

Who draws hi3 thoughts of Love from senseless things,

Their pomp and greatest glories doth impair,

And mounts Love's heaven with over-laden wings.

Stones, herbs, and flowers, the foolish spoils of

earth, Floods, metals, colours, dalliance of the eye; These show conceit is stain'd with too much

dearth, Such abstract fond compares make cunning die.

But he that hath the feeling taste of Love
Derives his essence from no earthly toy;
A weak conceit his power cannot approve,
For earthly thoughts are subject to annoy.

Be whist, be still, be silent, censors, now:
My fellow-swain has told a pretty tale,
Which modern poets may perhaps allow,
Yet I condemn the terms, for they are stale.

Apollo, when my mistress first was born,
Cut off his locks, and left them on her head,
And said, " I plant these wires in Nature's scorn,
Whose beauties shall appear when time is dead."

From forth the crystal heaven when she was made,
The purity thereof did taint § her brow,
On which the glistering sun that sought the shade
Qan set, and there his glories doth avow.

Those eyes, fair eyes, too fair to be describ'd,
Were those that erst the chaos did reform;
To whom the heavens their beauties have ascrib'd,
That fashion life in man, in beast, in worm.

• fti»] Both 4to». "ber." t truchmen] i. o. interpreters. J complain] Both 4tos. "amplaine." § taint] Equivalent to "tint." see note }, p. 154, first col.

When first her fair delicious cheeks wore wrought, Aurora brought her blush, the moon her white; Both so combin'd as passed Nature's thought, Compil'd those pretty orbs of sweet delight.

When Love and Nature once wero proud with

From both their lips her lips the coral drew;
On them doth Fancy sleep, and every day
Doth swallow joy, such sweet delights to viow.

Whilom while Venus' son did seek a bower
To sport with Psyche, his desired dear,
He chose her chin, and from that happy stowrc *
He never stints in glory to appear.

Desires and Joys, that long had served Love,
Besought a hold where pretty eyes might woo

them: Love made her neck, and for their best behove Hath shut them there, whence no man can undo


Once Venus dream'd upon two pretty things, Her thoughts they weret affection's ohiefest

nests; She suck'd, and sigh'd, and bath'd her in the

springs, And when she wak'd, they wero my mistress'


Once Cupid sought a hold to couch his kisses.
And found the body of my best-belov'd,
Wherein he clos'd the beauty of his blisses,
And from that bower can never be rcmov'd.

The Graces erst, when Acidalian springs
Were waxen dry, perhaps did find her fountain
Within the vale of bliss, where Cupid's wings
Do shield the nectar fleeting from the mountain.

No more, fond man: things infinite, I see,
Brook no dimension; hell a foolish speech;
For eudleBS things may never talked be;
Then let me live to honour and beseech.

* stowre] la old poetry frequently signifies tumult, disorder, battle, &o.: but here it means—time, moment; an interpretation of the word which is not given in uny dictionary or glossary I have ever met with. Comparo Lodge;

"Whose diro disdaine (the god that kindles loue,
And makes impressions strannply from alxme,
Misliking) strako with fancie at that sto'ixr"

Forlionht* and PriK-rrin, K.S4. Sig. 1 2.

t Her thought* they were, &c] Walker (&ialnp«xrc't

Versification, &c , p. 285), after quoting examples of

"methougki" and "mtlhovght*" from our early Jjoots,

bids us "so understand Greene " in the present lino.

Sweet Nature's pomp, if my deficient phrase
Hath stain'd thy glories by too little skill,
Yield pardon, though mine eye, that long did gaze,
Hath left no better pattern to my quill.

I will no more, no more will I detain
Your listening ears with dalliance of my tongue;
I speak my joys, but yet conceal my pain,
My pain too old, although my years be young.



Sit down, Carmela; here are cobs * for kings,
Sloes black as jet or like my Christmas shoes,
Sweet cider which my leathern bottle brings;
Sit down, Carmela, let mo kiss thy toes.


Ah Doron ! ah my heart! thou art as white

As is my mother's calf or brinded cow;

Thine eyes are like the glow-worms t in the

Thine hairs resemble thickest of the snow.

The lines within thy face are deep and clear
Like to the furrows of my father's wain;
The * Bweat upon thy face doth oft appear
Like to my mother's fat and kitchen-gain.

Ah, leave my toe, and kiss my lips, my love 1
My lips are thine, for I have given them thee ; §
Within thy cap 'tis thou shalt wear my glove;
At foot-ball sport thou shalt my champion be.

Carmela dear, even as the golden ball
That Venus got, such are thy goodly eyes;
When cherries' juice is jumbled therewithal,
Thy breath is like the steam of apple-pies.

Thy lips resemble two cucumbers fair;
Thy teeth like to the tusks of fattest swine;
Thy speech is like the thunder in the air:
Would God, thy toes, thy lips, and all were mine!


Doron, what thing doth move this wishing grief?


'Tis Love, Carmela, ah, 'tis cruel Love!
That, like a slave and caitiff villain-thief,
Hath cut my throat of joy for thy behove.

Where was he born?


In faith, I know not where;
But I have heard * much talking of his dart:
Ay me, poor man ! with many a tramplingt tear
I feel him wound the fore-horse J of my heart

What, do I love ? 0, no, I do but talk:
What, shall I die for love 1. 0, no, not so:
What, am I dead? 0, no, my tongue doth walk:
Come, kiss, Carmela, and confound my woe.


Even with this kiss, as once my father did,
I seal the sweet indentures of delight:
Before I break my vow the gods forbid,
No, not by day, nor yet by darksome night.


Even with this garland made of hollyhocks
I cross thy brows from every shepherd's kiss:
Heigh-ho, how glad am I to touch thy locks!
My frolic heart even now a freeman is.


I thank you, Doron, and will think on you;
I love you, Doron, and will wink on you.
I seal your charter-patent with my thumbs:
Come, kiss and part, for fear my mother comes.

What thing is Love? It is a power divine
That reigns in us, or else a wreakful law
That dooms our minds to beauty to incline:
It is a star whose influence doth draw

Our hearts to Love, dissembling of his might
Till he be master of our hearts and sight.

cobs] Does this word mean hero cob-apples? or cobnut*? or the loaves called cob»t—Both 4tos. "cubit."

1 glov~wormt\ Both 4tos. "slow-worm*.''

J The) Both 4to». "Thy."

| My Upt are thine, for J have given them thee] The 4to. of 1089; "My lipjKs and thine, for I haue aiurn it thee."

heard] The 4to. of 15S9 "had."

t trampling] Tho 4to. of 1M6 "trickling."

I fore-hone] Both 4tos. "forchearse."

Love is a discord, and a strange divorce
Betwixt our sense and reason, by whose power,
As mad with reason, we admit that force
Which wit or labour never may devour:

It is a will that brooketh no consent;

It would refuse, yet never may repent.

Love's a desire which, for to wait a time,
Doth lose an age of years, and Bo doth pass,
As doth the shadow, sever'd from his prime,
Seeming as though it were, yet never was;
Leaving behind nought but ropentant

Of days ill-spent, for that which profits

It's now a peace, and then a sudden war;

A hope consum'd before it is conceiv'd;

At hand it fears, and menaceth afar;

And he that gains is most of all deceiv'd:
It is a secret hidden and not known,
Which one may better feel than write upon.




MADRIGAL. The swans, whose pens as white as ivory, Eclipsing fair Endymion's silver love. Floating like snow down by the banks of Po, Ne'er tun'd their notes, like Leda once forlorn, With more despairing sorts of madrigals, Than I, whom wanton Love hath with his gad Prick'd to the core* of deep and restless thoughts. The frolic youngsters Bacchus' liquor mads Run not about the wood[s] of Thessaly With more enchanted fits of lunacy Than I, whom Love, whom sweet and bitter Love Fires, infects with sundry passions; Now lorn with liking over-much my love, Frozen with fearing if I step too far, Fired with gazing at such glimmering stars As, stealing light from Phoebus' brightest rays, Sparkle and set a fiaine within my breast. Rest, restless Love; fond baby, be content; Child, hold thy darts within thy quiver close: An if thou wilt be roving with thy bow, Aim at those hearts that may attend on love: Let country swains aud silly swadst be still; To court, young wag, and wanton there thy fill.

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Obscdre and dark is all the gloomy air,
The curtain of the night is overspread;
The silent mistress of the lowest sphere
Puts on her sable-colour'd veil and lours.*
Nor star, nor milk-white circle of the sky,
Appears, where Discontent doth hold her lodge.
She sits shrin'd in a canopy of clouds,
Whose massy darkness mazeth every sense.
Wan are her looks, her cheeks of azure hue;
Her hairs as Gorgon's foul retorting snakes;
Envy the glass wherein the hag doth gaze;
Restless the clock that chimes her fast asleep;
Disquiet thoughts the minutes of her watch.
Forth from her cave the fiend full oft doth fly:
To kings she goes, and troubles them with crowns,
Setting those high-aspiring brands on fire,
That flame from earth unto the seat of Jove;
To such as Midas, men that dote on wealth,
And rent the bowels of the middle earth
For coin, who gape, as did fair Danae,
For showers of gold,—there Discontent in black
Throws forth the vials of her restless cares;
To such as sit at Paphos for relief,
And offer Venus many solemn vows;
To such as Hymen in his saffron robe
Hath knit a Gordian knot of passions;
To these, to all, parting the gloomy air,
Black Discontent doth make her bad repair.

In Cyprus sat fair Venus by a fount,

Wanton Adonis toying on her knee:
She kiss'd the wag, her darling of account;
The boy gan blush; which when his lover see,
She smil'd, and told him love might challenge

debt, And he was young, and might be wanton yet.

The boy wax'd bold, fired by fond desire,
That woo he could and court her with con-
Reason spied this, and sought to quench the fire
With cold disdain; but wily Adon straight
Cheer'd up the flame,and said,"Good sir, what let?
I am but young, and may be wanton yet."

Reason replied, that beauty was a bane
To such as feed their fancy with fond love,

That when sweet youth with lust is overta'en.
It rues in age: this could not Adon move,

* lovri] The 4to. "lower."

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