Alba The months minde of a melancholy louer, diuided into three parts: by R.T. Gentleman. Hereunto is added a most excellent pathetical and passionate letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the court, and from his royall companie. Translated into English by the foresaid author. Tofte, Robert, 1561-1620. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A13797 of text S111433 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 24096). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 179 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 75 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A13797 STC 24096 ESTC S111433 99846781 99846781 11770 2240906392

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A13797) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 11770) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 399:16) Alba The months minde of a melancholy louer, diuided into three parts: by R.T. Gentleman. Hereunto is added a most excellent pathetical and passionate letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the court, and from his royall companie. Translated into English by the foresaid author. Tofte, Robert, 1561-1620. Epernon, Jean-Louis de Nogaret de La Valette, duc d', 1554-1642. [146] p. Printed by Felix Kingston, for Matthew Lownes, At London : 1598. R.T. = Robert Tofte. Mostly in verse. Signatures: A-I K² (-K2). "The second part of the moneths mind of a melancholy louer" and "Certaine diuine poems" each have a separate title page; register is continuous. Reproduction of a photostat of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng eebo Alba. The months minde of a melancholy louer, diuided into three parts: by R.T. Gentleman. Hereunto is added a most excellent pathetical and passionat Tofte, Robert, 1598 150 31382 320 0 0 0 0 0 101.97 F The rate of 101.97 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2004-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2005-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-02 Sampled and proofread 2005-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

ALBA . THE MONTHS MINDE OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER , diuided into three parts :

By R. T. Gentleman .

HEREVNTO IS ADDED A most excellent pathetical and passionate Letter , sent by Duke D'Epernoun , vnto the late French King , Henry the 3. of that name , when he was commanded from the Court , and from his Royall Companie . Translated into English by the foresaid Author .

Spes , Amor , & Fortuna valete .

AT LONDON . Printed by Felix Kingston , for Matthew Lownes . 1598.

As glorious Pearle , the MARGARITE At shine of Sunne doth showe : So doth she looke , or very like , To whom I Dutie owe . R.T.
TO THE NO LESSE EXCELLENT THEN HONORABLIE DESCENDED Gentlewoman , Mistresse Anne Herne . PVre Lampe of Vertue , burning alwaies bright , Who , Grace in me ( vnworthie ) dost infuse : Cleere Sunne that driu'st each doubtfull Mist from sight , The firm'st Maintainer of my crased Muse ; Lo I this mournfull Verse in sable weede , From sorrowes Cell , do send thee for to reade . Daine thou with cheerfull looke , what my sad eye Distils from Lymbeck of a bleeding Hart ; Fruits of True Loue disdainde most wrongfully , Vouch●afe of me ( as of my Dutie ) part , A Wofull Wight , indebted paieth thee so , Bankroutes in pleasure , can but pay with woe . As often as the Moone doth change her course , And Sunne to nouell Signe doth enter in : So often I do call still for remorse , Whilst endles sorrow doth new Griefe begin . Once I each Month to CRVEL ALBA make , A MONTHS MIND , yet no pitie she doth take . Thou art the SHADOW of her SVBSTANCE faire , Resembling her most perfectly in Shape : Ah then but smile , and it shall ease my care , Though stint it cannot , her nere dying hate : Grant me this Boone , and neuer shall my Verse Leaue , of thy Christall BROOKE praise to rehearse . Humbly deuoted vnto your matchles Vertues . R. T.
TO THE THRISE GENEROVS AND NOBLE Gentleman Sir Calisthines Brooke Knight , one of her Maiesties chiefe Commanders in IRELAND . MIrror of Knighthood , WORTHIES Caualiere , Touchstone of Valour , Chiefe of Chiualrie ; Honor of Field , to Foe a deadly Feare , Wars bloody Ancient , Plague to Surquedrie : Souldiers Reliefe , Mars brauest Coronell , Bellonas Trumpet , Battailes Larum Bell : Sweet to thy Friends , to Strangers nothing sower , Whose kinde Behauiour hath bin of such force , As ore thy deadliest Foes , th' hast had great power , Making them learne true Pitie and Remorse . Witnes the sauadge KERNS , and IRISH wilde , Wrought through thy Cariage sweete , both tame and milde . Vertue and Honor , striue in thee t' exceede ; Valour and Beautie , Intrest in thee claime , Whilst thou thy Noble House noblest indeede , Thy House , not thee , through thy Palme-rising Fame . Worthy art thou to be ( Faire matchle● Wight ) MINION to Kings to Queenes , deare FAVORITE . Then ( Courteous KNIGHT ) vouchsafe with cheerfull smile , This wofull Verse ( though worthles ) to accept : Begot by Griefe , brought forth as Sorrowes Childe , Since Thee and Thine ( as Sacred ) I respect . Ah had mine ALBA seene thy louely Face , For thy sweet sake , I ( then ) had found some Grace . At your honorable Disposition alwaies to be commanded . R.T.
To the right noble and magnanimous Gentleman Sir John Brooke Knight , one of her Maiesties chiefe Captaines in the LOW COVNTRIES . BRaue KNIGHT , whose Vertues far exceed thy yeeres , The Ornament of thy thrise Noble House , Whose Worth is such as findes abroad few Peeres : So Famous art thou , and Illustrious , Making the World to wonder at thy Praise , Whilst to thy selfe new Glorie thou dost raise . Thou like vnto another Alexander , Art to thy Countries Foes , a Tamberlaine , ( A Bloody Scourge ) whilst thou dost them indanger , The Proudst of whom , thou makst to yeeld with shame : Witnes the Siege of AMYENS late in FRANCE , W●●re Knightly Honor thy Seruice did aduance . Vouchsafe thou then great MARSI's Parent Heire , To lay aside thy Martiall minde a space , And view these lines , Th' vntimely Fruits of Care , Which I desire ( though not deserue ) to grace : Gratious thou art with All , then grace to One This Verse , whose Grace I do entreate alone . May be , when my coy ALBA shall perceiue , This Fauour done so kindly vnto me , She ( for a while ) from Rigor then will breathe , Taking T●uce , ( though not Peace ) from Crueltie . Grant me this Sute , and I with zeale will pray , That when thou lou'st , thy Mistris nere say Nay . At yo●r honorable Disposition alwaies to be commanded . R.T.
Richard Day to the Author . WHilst louely ROBIN REDBREST thou dost sing , In chirping note her Beautie most diuine , Whom thou to heauen with peeles of praise dost ring , The gentle Aire with thee keepes tune and time : Aurora , from the skies on ALBA sweet , Raines Roses , her in kindnes more to greet . To heare thee sing the Windes are whist in th' aire , And calmie Zephirus a coole fresh blast doth blow : Flora doth smile , and Riuers forced are To stay their course , they like thy musick so : Willing they lend to thee their listning eare , As who would say , Him only would we heare . The sauage beasts do runne ; the liueles stones Tumble apace , and mouing Mountaines hie , To heare how sweetly thou thy Loue bemones , Taking delight in this rare melodie , Whilst LOVE himselfe hearing thee making Loue , The ●eat● thereof as rauished doth proue . So did the Thracian Orpheus heretofore , Vpon the flowring bankes of Heber play On skilfull Harpe , ( as thou dost now implore Longst TAMESIS ) for faire Euredisay . Be then our English Orpheus , raise thy Verse , Thy worthie ALBAS praise , brauely rehearse . R. Day . Gentleman .
An Answer to his kinde friend Richard Day . Gent. NO louely , nor beloued REDBREST I , A ROBIN poore refusde , such one I am , Which I le ascribe vnto my Destinie , And not impute it vnto ALBAS blame : Yet will I chir● her praises to my skill , Where Art doth want , my Hart supplies goodwill Sweet Friend , t is thou that louely sweet dost sing , No swanne , but rauen I ; my voice is hoarse : Thou DAY to the day the cle●rest light dost bring , And of thy DIAMANTA findst remorse . Heau●●s , Air● , Windes , Earth , Beasts , Stones , Hils , Seas and all , Thou canst command by thy sweet Verses call . To praise me thus thou dost me too much wrong , This waight's too heauie for my back to beare : To thee , and to thy Mistris , Praise belong ; For you , not me , this Garland's fit to weare . Yet since some Flowers thereof you do bestow On ALBA mine , I thankefull still will show . Be thou our ALBIONS ●epheus most diuine , I cannot play , my ioy●●● not nimble are : Thou that art best in Loues sweet t●ne and time , Sound thou ●irected by a beautious Starre . My Star is bright , you let me tell the truth , Where Beautie most abounds , there wants most Ruth . R. T.
A friend , though a stranger to the Author . WHen I by chance do reade thy dulcet Verse , I cannot ( though a stranger , yet thy friend , Thy passions be so pleasing , and so pierce ) But giue thee Due , and them ( of right ) commend . So cunningly thy Verse doth ioyne with Art , Thy griefes makes yerne the hardest Readers hart . If thou dost write , thou others dost enflame , Thy stile is pure ( well nie Celestiall ) Like to the Sunne sparkling his beames amaine , Or like the Fire , whose heate doth soone appale . To heare thy selfe ( not others ) sing , I long , Sweet Bird thy Notes are sweete , sweet is thy Song . Sing then sweet Bird with Ruddie Breast thy fill , For I do loue , affect and honor thee : Thou Sweet , I Constant , so continuing still , A Cignet thou , and I le a Louer bee : So shall no loue be like the loue of mine , No stile compare with stile so rare of thine . Then be not mute , when thou maist gently moue ; Keep not ( alwaies ) thy sorrowes to thy selfe ; Still mone not priuatly like turtle Doue ; Content of Mind's worth all : seeke thine owne Health . Thinke All things haue their course ; the time may come , Though now obscurde , yet bright may shine thy Sunne . Per Ignoto .
An Answer . BOund by Desert , ( thy Merits , but not mine ) A Stranger thou , how shall I make amends ? That of thy friendship , such assured signe ( To me scant knowne ) such louing Verses sends ? Thanks giue I , that 's a yonger Brothers reward , Nought els I haue , my Fortune i● so hard . My worthles lines th' hast red , ( as thou dost write ) But ( partiall thou ) too much the same dost praise . To sing still kindly thou dost me inuite , My Glorie ( but indeed my Shame ) to blaze . Alas I cannot ; dead in that sweet Fire , Which did enflame in me such chast Desire . Then boldly sang I , when those louely Eyes Were guide●●o me : but now that they are gon● , Now that my Sunne shines not in cheerfull wise , Nor my Fire heates me , I will weep and 〈◊〉 . I , weep , ( saith Cruell A●na ) weep thy fill , For neuer more I see or loue th●e will . But thou that constant art in thy vowde Loue , And ( as Belou'd ) thy Ladies loue dost gaine . With thy sweet S●ile , and my sad Plaines to mou● , Each Readers harts seeke thou in ●●●rous vaine ; In s●cre● still I le sorrow like the Doue , And when my Sunne shall shine , then will I moue . R. T.
To my deare friend R. T. Gent. SWeet Cignet that so sweetly dost deplore , Thy sad lamenting Passions and thy loue , ●here TAMESIS doth flow alongst the shore , ●nd from cleere Isis doth his passage moue , Running alongst braue Troynouants right side , Till ceasles she into the Sea doth glide . ●hou to the Nymphs dost sing so sweet a tune , ●racing thy selfe with such a sugred note , ●s Waues and Windes , are still , and cal●nie soon● ●o heare thee ; nor desire they blow , or flote , Whilst they do breathe to vs this gentle Gust , Only let ROBIN sing , All other Birds be hush● . I. M. Gent.
The Answer of the Author . T Is thou , not I , that singst so sweet a Song , Where MERSIE streames , whose waues are Siluer found , Whose ba●kes are Gold , whilst he doth g●●de along ●nto the swelling Trent his vtmost Bound . You that in Loues Quire sing , heare him alone Not me : my Song 's vnpleasant , full of mone . Heare him , who chaunts with such a pleasant Lay , As he , Seas stormes , can ( when he list ) asswage ; Make stealing Time against his will to stay , And calme the Windes , when most they seeme to rage : Heare him ; to vs ( to heare him ) t is a Grace , Your Glorie to be husht , and giue him place . R. T.
The Author to Master R.A. DEare friend , in whom Euterpe doth in still Each rare Conceit , within thy learned brest , Guiding so happily thy pleasing quill , Whilst of thy Mistris Beautie th' art in Quest: Making our TAMESIS for fame as rare , As Tiber , when proud Rome Worlds scepter bare . That LAWREL greene which in my youthfull yeares I lou'd so much , so deare , as like could none , A fatall barren Cypresse now appeares , Which scarce in harsh and hatefull Verse I m●ne : Too true presage of Falling of my Sunne , And hastie Poste of my sad Griefes to come . Then to what end , since that it is in vaine , My sicklie penne , my bloodles hand to write , Calast thou on me ? that thus liue still in paine , Since blinded I , haue lost mine ALBAS sight . MERCIE no Mercie me , no more will show , Now doth it ebbe , where it was wont to flow . But thou whose Blood is hot , and in thy Prime , And daily ioyest thy Cynthias Companie : Rowse thee , and of right Eagle shew the signe , And with thy Verse ( thy flight ) cut through the skie , Whilst I mine ALBAS absence still bewaile , Whose sight being lost , my sences needs must faile . R. T.
An Answer . EVterpe , nor the Muses ( her sweet Mates ) Pernassus drops infuse into my Braine : My table is not furnisht with rare Cates , ( Daintie Conceits ) which come from Poets vaine : No sacred Furie me inspires t' endite , But what first comes in braine ( straight ) that I write . Thy Lawrel greene that thou hast lou'd so long , Doth florish still , nor fatall Cypresse t is ; To feare too much , thy selfe them much dost wrong , And ouer-much to grieue , thou dost amisse . No Sunne but falls as well as it doth rise , And who ( in Loue ) liues without Contraries ? Though ALBA's gone , yet she 'le againe returne , Then write , that she may know thou dost her minde : What Ladies promise , HONOR will performe , Nor think● that Beautie alwaies is vnkinde : ALBA is milde ; MERCIE will Mercie show , No Riuer ebs , but it againe must flow . I am at best and in my youthfull prime , My louely Cynthias Fauour I enioy : Yet think not but my Day is darkt sometime , As I do taste of Blisse , so feele I noy : Thus chirps one ROBIN REDBREST to another . Ah do not thy rare Gifts through sorrow smother . R. A.
TO THE PICTVRE OF HIS MISTRIS . LIke to the Porpose ( Tempests prophesier ) I play before the storme of my sad Teares : Or as the Swanne whose sweetest Note is higher , When Death is neerest , which he gently beares : So sing I , now that ALBA mine is parted , Who hath me left disliude and quite vnharted . Turne inke from Blacke to Gore in bloodiwise , Paper from white change thou to deadly pale , Whilst I my Readers eyes doe rumatise With brinish drops to heare this wofull Tale . This wofull tale , where sorrow is the ground , Whose bottom's such , as ( nere ) the Depth is found . But vnto whom sha●● ( now ) dedicate This mestfull verse , this mournfull Elegie ? Euen to my cruell Mistresse COVNTERFAITE , Of Beaut●es shape , the right Eternitie . Then to her PICTVRE I present this verse , Of my slaine Hart ( dead for pure loue ) the Ho●●● Here may I touch , kisse , talke , doe what I please Without Controle , Frowne , Anger , or Disdain To breake ones minde in griefe yet t is some And boldly speake without replie againe . Ah that I were Pigmalion in this place , That Venus , me ( as him she did ) would gra●
ALBA . Alla Crudelissima . Loe here the MONTHS MIND of my deare bough● Lou● Which ( once a Month ) I vowd to memorise , When first I sought the CRVEL FAIRE to moue , Who alwaies did my sighs and teares despise . This must my SABBOTH be , and HOLIDAY , On which I ( to my Goddesse ) vse to pray . This Feast I solemnise for her sweete sake , ( In absence hers ) as if she present were , For my proud CHOICE , who pitie none doth take On me , that liue twixt Hope , despaire and feare . ( Deare ALBA ) then accept this Sacrifice , These dutious Teares , the Tribute of mine eyes . Thinke how perplext fore PICTVRE thine I stand ; Thinke of the depth of my sad Passion ; How I haue alwaies bin at thy command ; How none but thee my thoughts still muse vpon . Thinke how I euer tendred thy Good na●● , Conseruing with my dearest Blood the same . 〈◊〉 how I still of thee had due respect , 〈◊〉 thou ( at all times ) ●idst me vse too hard ; 〈…〉 withouten cause thou didst reiect , 〈…〉 meaning too too meane reward ) 〈◊〉 ●hese wrongs which I endured haue , 〈◊〉 ●emember me : Nought els I craue . Troino●an● . Since spightfull Fortune ( sore against my will ) Hath drawne me farre from place where thou dost liue : And that of force I must obey her still , ( Although to liue so doth me deadly grieue ) Yet though my Bodie is farre off , MY HART Is still with thee , from whence is nere shall part . Only of thee ( sweete Ladie ) this I craue , That till our thred of life shall be vnspun , Thou wilt vouchsafe me in thy minde to haue , And not forget the Loue twixt vs begun . But in thy Hart the same for to repose , As I ( the like ) in inward soule doe close . This only can ( still ) me in life conserue , Thy gracious Fauour and thy Pitie sweete : This is the pretious Balme , the pure Preserue , Which I doe hope to finde , and still will seeke : This makes me liue , although with great vnrest , Since of thy selfe I haue bin dispossest . Thou art my Hope , my Hauen , my Comfort chiefe , On thee alone , on none el● I relie : Only to thee I come to begge reliefe ; In thee it is if I shall liue or die . ( DEAREST ) remember t is a Gift more rare , CONSTANT to be , then to be counted FAIRE . Two sparkling stars , fine golde , pure Ebonie , From whence Loue takes his Brands , his Shafts & Bow , Two daintie Apples , which though hid from eye , Through vaile of Lawne , through lawne more faire do show : A cherrie lip with Iuo●ie teeth most white , Where Cupid begs within that Grate so bright . Vermilion Flowers that grow in Heauen aboue ; Snow , which no wet can marre , nor Sunne can melt , Right Margarite Pearle which alwaies Orient proue , A Voyce , that Hart of marble makes to swelt , A Smile that calmes the raging of the Sea , And Skie more cleere makes then was wont to bee . Graue , staied wisedome in yong and tender yeares , A stately Gate , and Port maiesticall , A Carriage ( where in vertue ( borne ) appeares , Lookes that disdaine , and yet delight withall , Numbers of Fauours , Beauties infinite , With Modestie , chaste , pure , and milde Deligh● . An humble Soule within a Bodie rich , A lowly Thought within a conquering Hart : These are the workes which I commend so mich , Which Heauens & LOVE haue framde by curious Art : All these I once enioyde : but they being gone , My Note is changde , my Mirth is turnde to Mone . Ah might I once perswaded be at last , These skalding sighs of mine should haue an end , That I for Sower , some Sweet ( at length ) might taste , And that the CRVEL FAIRE would not contend Euer gainst me ; I then would ( gently ) take , And suffer all these wrongs for her sweete sake . Too well I know ( and I confesse the same ) That too too loftie is my proud Desire : My soaring Thoughts , deseruing mickle blame , And I , ore bold , presume too high t' aspire : Yet still ( me thinkes ) mine Ayme , being not base , I should deserue some little tynie Grace . Say then ( sweete LOVE ) for thou with ALBA mine , Dost soiorne , wheresoeuer she doth bide ) Say , am I like , that , to obtaine in time , From which I now am so farre off , and wide ? Ah say the truth , doth she once thinke on me ? Doth she but wish that I with her might be ? Ah had not Reason my Desires refrainde , I had , my Thoughts deare Soueraigne , seene ere this , Whose Grace I sought ( but bootles ) to haue gainde , The only ioy I in this world would wish . Rather would I see those chaste beautious Eyes , Then chuse to be in matchlesse Paradise . As Christall Glasse in which the Sunne doth shine , I like mine ALBAS Angels heauenly feature : But when she deadly wounds this Cor●e of mine , I lothe her more then any murthring Creature : More then a Theefe that robs and stealeth pelfe , I hate her , when she steales me from my selfe . My hart is grieu'd cause it doth disagree : For whilst my Minde to loue her doth deuise , And thinks her worthie honored for to bee , A Sdainfull thought through Hatred doth arise , Which skornes that one so Rich , a Theefe shuld proue , That one so Faire , a Murtheresse is in loue . I know not what to seeke , nor what I should , Yet haue I sought till I haue lost my sense : Although truth to confesse , faine loue I would , And yet not die for this too Cruell wench . Betwixt these two fain would I find a Meane , Alas , Women haue none , they alwaies keepe ●h'extreme . Then how for me i ft possible to loue , If my best ALBA once from me be tooke ? How shall I liue when thousand Deaths I proue ? When not this one ( the least ) I scarce can brooke . Ah woe is me , a double mixt Desire , To haste my Death the sooner doth conspire . Such is the rare perfection of sweete Beautie Of my faire ALBA , my sole choise Delight : That if that any PAINTER doth his dutie , To shadow forth her Luster passing bright , He loseth both his labour and his time , As one ore bold , so high a step to clime . For whilst he giues his minde attentiuely , And studieth to match Nature with his Art , Marking her Feature with a watchfull eye , To portray forth most liuely euery part : Such brightnes comes from her , such glistring rayes , As he 's struck blinde , and darkned goes his wayes . This is the cause , that who in hand doth take , In curious wise her pearlesse Counterfate , Hoping himselfe immortall so to make , Doth fall into like dangerous estate : Thinking to shadow her , he shadowed is , And so his eyes , and purpose he doth misse . That , she were drawne in midst of Hart it were Far better , ( and ( my selfe ) haue plaste her so ) For though in darke she hidden doth appeere , Yet vnto me she faire and bright doth show , My Hart 's the Boord , where limnde you may her see ; My Teares the Oyle , my Blood the Colours bee . Fano . Bright were the Heauens , and husht was euery winde , Cleere was the day , when as mine ALBA faire , Brought forth with ioy ( Lucina being kinde ) A daintie Babe , for feature passing rare , Adorning all the world with this glad welth , A gift t' enrich the World , Vs , and her self . What time she was in trauell of this Childe , No thunder , lightning , nor no storme was heard : But all was quiet , peacefull , calme , and milde , As if the skies t' offend her were afeard , Whilst th' earth attended on her , and the Sea , As though they staid at her command to be . Then did the Windes ( not vsing so before ) A gentle gale blow calmely euery where , And fild the blisfull Aire with sweetes great store : Each bird and fowle shewing a merry cheere , Whilst that blest Day a double Beautie fo●●d , One from the Sunne , the other here on g●ound . This made the haughtie proud Oceanus , To open all his wealth in outward show : And finding my faire Mistresse honored thus , He made his swelling waues in richnes flow , Whilst that a MARGARITE brought forth a Perle , A precious stone , a daintie louely Gerle . As I haue liu'd , I liue , and liue so will , With selfe same baite that LOVE for me did lay , When he his net ( to traine me in by skill ) Did open set , to bring me to his bay : Only that I might sigh for thee alone , And sue for Grace , although Grace found I none . Then ALBA let it not displeasen thee , Nor make thou shew of anger for the same : Though my sweete Bonds so strait and inward bee , Since I ( not thou ) doe beare thereof the paine : And that my loue to thee is growne so neere , As then my life I value it more deere . Thine was I first , and thine at last I am , And thine I will be to the world his end : For thee into this world I willing came , And leaue this world I will , fore thee offend . Mea●● time thy matchles vertues I will blase , And ●pend my life , sighing for thee alwaies . Ah LOVE t was thou that tookst my libertie , And of Freeman inforst me be a slaue , Whilst Hers to be , and thine , most willinglie I am content this seruile yoke to haue . LOVES prisoner then , begging at Beauties gate , Some Almes bestow sweete Ladie for Gods sake . My mounting Minde , my neuer staide Conceit , Hath buil● a stately Castle in the Aire : Which Ioue his lightning Fire , nor his fierce thret , Nor Fate , nor Fortune , nor ought els doth feare . Founded it is vpon two running Wheeles , The Gates of dust and winde ( still turning reeles . ) Thousands of Motes are digd about the same , Which are capritious Humors fond and Toyes : The Skouts and Guards therof , Hopes dead and vaine ; The Food therein preparde , false fleeting Ioyes ; The fencing Walles are framde of fi●rce Desire , Which dreads nor Sea , nor earth , nor force , nor fire . The Armours , framed are in running Head , Of foolish Boldnes , and of pensiue Feare , Which None knowes how they should be managed , Nor how the same gainst others right to beare : The Shot , Munition , and Artillerie , Are diuers Thoughts which in the Fancie lie . The Castellane doth fight against himselfe , Hauing nought els his souldiers for to pay , But with Ambition which is all his wealth : Iudge then my state , and marke my firmest stay . O LOVE how long learne shall I in thy Schoole ? The more I learne , I ( still ) doe proue more Foole . Swift roling Spheares , cleere burning Lamps diuine , That with your beames disgrace the glorious Sunne : Faire Ladders by which I to Heauen clime , And by your Influence this rare course doe runne . Ah , if not quickly hither you returne , Too late ( in vaine ) my losse you then shall mourne . My Spirits for you did seeke to ope each way , That you might passage make into my Hart , And ioyfull were they when you there did stay , But sorrowfull when you from thence did part . And now my Soule is summond by Despaire , For want of you his only Hope and Care . All comfortles I liue here all alone , Banisht from Mirth , and Bondslaue vnto Noy : Feeding my selfe ( now you from hence are gone ) With sweete Remembrance of forepassed Ioy , And ●●th kinde Hope : these twaine together striue To keepe me , gainst despairing Thoughts aliue . The first , doth ALBAS selfe ( for my reliefe ) Present ( of which I am now dispossest ) The other doth abate each swelling griefe , Which els my Hart would ouermuch molest . Ah pleasing Hope , ah gratious Memorie , You make me liue , which els of force should die . Without my Sunne , I liue in darksome shade , Whil●t I with sighing spend my hatefull daies , And in LOVES Sea without my Pilot wade , Whilst storme my leaking Barke to sinke assaies : I languish malcontent , deepe drownde in Care , Witnes mine Eyes , that running fountaines are . Thou Northwest Village farre from mine abode , Which dost enioy my Mistris presence faire : Ah h●ppie art thou where she makes her rode , And where she bides whose selfe hath no compare . Happie art thou , but most vnhappie I , Thou dost possesse , I want her companie . Faine would I ( for long since I vow did take ) As painfull Pilgrim in deuoutfull wise , A voyage in that Holy land to make , At my sweete Saint her Shrine to sacrifise , Where ( for Oblation ) I my Hart would o●fer , Not doubting but she would accept the proffer . But to no end I wish , it is in vaine , A lesser Fauour should contenten mee : It should suff●ise me if I might but gaine A sight of her , Her once more for to see . Alack , this is not ouermuch I craue , Only her sight , not her , t is I would haue . Sad Teares , that from my mestfull Hart doe runne , Thrust forth through watrie Eyes by Sorrow kinde : If you into LOVES paths by chance shall come , Where he doth walke , and pitie thinke to finde : In vaine then doe you stirre abrode , in vaine You lose your trauaile , labour , and your paine . For whilst the way vnto an Humour new You open wide , fierce ALBA shutteth close Her breast from mercie , making me to rew , And for your Friendship , counts you as her foes : Wherein , she doth a damd Example show , Forcing her Hart gainst Conscience hers to goe . Then wofull teares what will you doe as now ? LOVE's dead and gone , all pitie is exilde : Skornd is my Constancie and loyall Vow , And through Disdaine I daily am reuilde . My Hop●s are blasted , and as withered seeme , Whilst still Disgraces shew before me greene . Come then , turne backe , and with me secretlie Bewaile my torment , least my Hart appeere A senseles stone , through p●oud Impietie : And my blinde eyes a fountaine ●unning cleere . And since not any will our Griefes bemone , Let s swallow downe our Sorrowes all alone . LOVE hath me bound once more to make the way , From whence my Hart hath neuer yet declinde : And doubts least He , from rightest paths should stray , Because so weake and crased I him finde : And marueile none , he wants his wonted sight , How can he iournie then but Sauns delight . The sillie Wretch lookes vp , yet nought can see ; As who should say , my Helpe comes from Aboue : Yet grieues his seruice is not tooke boun gree , Since t is refinde from Thought of purest Loue . My Minde doth burne in frost , but not in fire , Through vncouth passion barde from his Desire . My Hart is like a Widower that 's disdainde ; My soule a Figure of a MALCONTENT , To see that LOVE thus vildly should be stainde , Not to requite , where nought but Loue is ment . But I doe see no pitie is in spite , Where Malice raignes , Desert is banisht quite . My Soule vpon my Hart for this doth plaine , My Hart ( againe ) my Fancie doth accuse : My Fancie saith , mine Eyes were too too blame , Their ouer-boldnes wrought this great Abuse . Alas poore Eyes , too dearly doe you pay , When for one Fault your Light is tooke away . Thy whitenes ( ALBA ) I may well compare To Delia , when no clowde doth her obscure : Thy haires to Phoebus lightning in the Aire , When he doth shine with greatest Luster pure . Thy diamond eyes , like to a frostie Night , Where sparkling stars doe shooting take their flight . Thy cheekes Aurora like , when with her Dew , The Rose and Lillie she doth sprinkle sweete : Resembling drops that seeded Pearle doe shew , As if that double Beautie did them greete . Thy Hand , no hand , it is the daintie Gloue , Which Psyches ware , when she was wed to LOVE . What art thou , but All faire in outward show , But inwardly th' art Cruel and vnkinde : In thy faire Face all Fauours sweet doe grow , But Thornes and Briars in thy Hart I finde : With s●ew of sweet thou lur'st and dost entise , But bitterly thou makst them pay the price . Thou cruell lead'st my life to dismall Death , My hope from all her Ioyes thou dost confine : Thou art the corde that stopst my vitall breath , And Armes with Armes against me dost conioyne . Thou only art the SHE that 's fenst with hate , And dost thy selfe of pitie naked make . Tirde with a Burthen of Extremities , Which breakes , not bowes , my wofull Hart in twaine , And checkt with chiefest Mate of Miseries , I linger out my lothed life in paine . Then death , not life , I may this liuing call , Where ceasles Noy , not ioy , doth me befall . Black gloomy Thoughts 〈◊〉 me doe tyrannise , And to my Soule appoynted faithfull Guides , Doe her deceiue , with her they subtellise , Nor in this ill to comfort me None bides . All my best Hopes are at an Ebbing low , Whilst stealing yeares , with griefes encreasing grow . What shall I doe ? shall I to reason turne ? Oh no , for her I too much haue offended . What , shal I goe to LOVE , and to him mourne For aide , and promise all shall be amended ? Alas , it were in vaine , and labour lost , Where he doth promise , he deceiueth most . See then ye fond Desires , what you haue done , By headstrong Will , sage Reason to depraue : But what shall I , as now resolue vpon ? Whom shall I trust ? of whom helpe shall I craue ? Euen her who first betraide me will I trust , She can but be ( as she hath been ) vniust . Come gentle sleepe ( sweet sleepe ) my welcome Frend , Come comfort me with shadow of my Loue , And her , in vision quickly to me send , For whom these g●iefes and bitter pangs I proue . Black Night be thou far darker then thou art , Thy chiefest Beautie is to be most darke . By thee my peace and pleasure doth arise , Whilst I through thy deceit ( yet liking me ) Doe seeme to ioy with her in louely wise , Although from hence ( God knowes ) far off she be . Such is the pleasure that herein I take , As more I could not ioy , were I awake . Thou shewst to me the trammels of her Haire , Clept SCALA COELI , locks of pure Delight : Her snowy Neck , the cause of my sweete Care ; Her eyes like Saphires sparkling in the night : With ot●er sights , vnseemly to be knowne : Al these sweet sleep , through thee to me are showne . Only in this ( my thinks ) th' art too vnkinde , That when thou partst from me , all ioy doth part : Nor any such thing left with me I finde , Which then afresh renewes mine inwa●d smart , Then since her selfe ( I waking ) cannot haue , Sleeping let me her shadow of thee craue . Like as the painefull Marchant venterer , That is to leaue his sweetest natiue soyle , Being bound vnto some strangy Countrie far , Whome hope of gaine doth restles make to toyle ; Taking his leaue of his deare Familie , Through feare & hope , makes them to liue and die . But afterward when he hath crost the Seas , Fraughting his ship with richest marchandise , He then begins to frolicke , Hearts at ease , And hoyseth vp his sailes in cheerefull wise , Searching by skill the shortest cut to take , Of this his wearie iourney , end to make . When being almost tired , at the last He is in kenning of his wished Home , And when hauing of his Natiue Aire a taste , Twixt ioy and griefe , his very soule doth grone , For griefe , his Countrie he so long did in For ioy , that Home he now returned is , So fare I : for when I doe call to minde The time in which my Libertie was lost , I shed salt teares , to thinke how I did binde My selfe , being free , as slaue vnto my cost : But when I hope one day I shall be free , ( Through my sweet Saint ) my hart doth leap for glee . As many fierie darts as Ioue on high , Dingde downe on Giants in his angrie mood , So many whirle about my Bodie nigh . As longing causeles for my guiltles blood , The frighted Aire raine Ashes downe apace , And cheerefull sunne flies hence to hide his face . Thus stand I in a Maze of Miserie , My Heart ( seeing nought but signes of present death ) Seekes how with clipped wings away to flie , And faine would scape to saue his vitall breath . Ah pouer wretch , but how ●ft possible ? I know not how , nor he himselfe can tell . The world 's his foe , and LOVE doth him betraie , Despaire of helpe , his senses doth confound , His cursed Guide ( for nonce ) leades him astraie , Fortune accuseth him on no sure ground . And which doth gaule him most , & most doth grieue , His Mistris rash , gainst him doth iudgement giue . He Mercie cries , and calleth for his Booke , But proude Disdaine doth stop the Iudges eare● , So that on ●im she 'le not so much as looke , And thus from Barre , they quickelie doe him beare , From ALBAS presence is he qui●e debarde , Exilde from Her , this is his sentence harde . Great state and pomp this princely pallace showes , And richly euery chamber hanged is : Mine entertainment daily sweeter growes , What Hart or thought can gesse , I doe not misse . Chiefly the Walkes , and Gardens wondrous been , As they a second Paradise doe seeme . Yet though I finde this kindnes passing great , With hunting , hawking , fowling , and such sport : For all our feasting and our daintie meate , Our mirth and Musick in most pleasing sort : For all these pleasures , yet liue I in paine , Since Her I want , for whom I wish in vaine . What others loue , I lothe , and quite dislike , And though I am in worthie co●panie , Yet still ( my think● ) I am retired quite , Into a place of matchles miserie , Into an vncouth wood and wildernes , Where liue such Beasts as pray on Sauagenes . And if that long from her I be depriu'd , My life shall be like flowers that want the Sun : So shall I yeeld my Ghost as one disliu'd , Whilst my threds life shall quickly be vnspun . Go skalding sighs then , flie vnto her straite , Say that for life or death on her I waite . You stately Hils , you princelike Ruins olde , Which proudly in your last remainders show , And who as yet the name of faire Rome holde , To whom did once the whole world homage owe , The place where ( now ) so many Relikes lie , Of Holy soules honord for Christ to die . You Theaters , you Conquerors Arches faire , Colosses huge , and massie Pillers great , Triumphant Showes of more then Glory rare , Where Victorie with pomp did take their seate : Lo what a wonder strange in you is wrought , You now are dust , con●umde ( as t were ) to nought . Though conquering War , doth make in time to come , Many things florish , and with Fame to rise : Yet in the end when all is past and done , Time doth All this consume in spitefull wise , All M●●uments , all Monarchs that haue been , Time in the end destroyes , and weares out cleane . And since t is so , I will contented liue In discontent : for if that Time can make An end of All , and end to each thing giue , ( May be ) some order he for me will take , ( May be ) in th' end when I shall tried bee To th' vtmost , I my guerdon iust may see . Roma . ALBA thinkst thou , thy Month shall still be MAY , And that thy Colour fresh , still faire will be ? That Time and Fortune will not weare away Beautie , which God and Nature lends to thee ? Yes , yes , that white and red , thy Cheekes now show Shall quicklie change , and blacke and yellow grow . The Giniper the longer it doth flower , The older still it waxeth , bowing still , And that sweete face of thine , which now hath power Whole worlds with wondering at the same to fill , Shall ( though it now sauns blemish be ) a Staine , Hereafter with thicke wrinkeled Clifts remaine . Great care to keepe this Beautie fraile must be , Which we ( God knowes ) a small time doe enioy , Doe what we can , we lose it suddenle ; Why , then , being courted shouldst thou seeme so coy , Fortunes wings made of Times feather●●eere stay But eare thou them canst measure flit away . Then be not ouer hard , like changeles Fate , But let my Cries force thee ( at last ) relent , Doe not oppose thy selfe too obstinate Gainst him , whose time to honor thee is spent : Ah let me speake the trueth ( though somewhat bold Though now th' art young , thou one day must be old Riuers of gorie blood into the Sea , In sted of Waters shall most swiftlie runne ; The hugie Ocean drie as land shall be , And darke as pitch shall shew the glistering Sunne : LOVE shall of Loue , and kindenes be depriude , And vastie world ( sauns people ) shall abide : The Night shall lightsome be as Day most plaine , The Heauens with their coloured cloudes shall fall , Fore LOVE in me , a new IDEA frame , Or my firme Heart , from ALBA alter shall , Ah fore I change , let horror stop my breth , Vnworthie Her , vnworthie of this earth . As heretofore , so still I will her loue , Nere shall my constant Heart lie languishing , In hope another Beautie for to proue , Which flitting fancie to mine eyes might bring : My fa●●h Acanthus like shall flourish greene ; Which th' older t is , the fresher still is seene . I am no glasse , but perfect Diamound , My constant minde holdes still where first it tooke , Though not my selfe , my soule 's in English ground , ITALIANS lookes , but not there LOVES I brooke . The Globelike World is round , and hath no end , Such is my Faith to her , my Fairest frend . Fano . Gold 's changde to Lead , and Emmeralds into Glasse ; Lillies proue Weedes , and Roses Nettles bee : No harmles Beasts now through the fields doe passe , To feede on Hill or Valleys shade we see : Wilde Tigers fierce , and rauenous Lions fell , In open Plaine , and cooly Groues doe dwell . In stead of milde and pleasing Accents sweete , From hollow Places fearfull Voices sound : Eccho amongst the craggie rocks doth weepe , And ( heauie ) makes her noyse with sighs rebound . Riuers against their wonted course do runne , The Moone lookes black , eclipsed is the Sunne . The Sallow shakes his boughes , and inward grieues , The Cypresse shew'th as if he sickly were , And ( melancholy ) bares his lothed leaues , A signe presaging some great cause of feare . Phoebus no more doth combe his tresses f●●re , But careles lets them feltred hang in th' a●re . Ghosts through the Citie ghastfully appeere , And hideous shapes the mindes of men afright : No Day we haue , but darknes euery where , And turnd the World is topsie turuy quite , The cause of all this change is my faire Loue , Since to the countrie ( hence ) she doth remoue . On bended knees low groueling on the ground , Before the CRVEL FAIRE I prostrate lay : But what I sought of Her could not be found , My kinde request was dasht with ruffe Denay . With me she sharply gan expostulate , Nor would she once pitie my hard Estate . Teares I did shed , but teares I shed in vaine ; Vowes I did make , my Vowes she did reiect ; Prayers I offred , Prayers she did disdaine ; Presents I sent , but them sh'would not accept . If teares , vowes , prayers , nor presents can doe good , What then remaines , but for to offer blood ? Then Cruell take this Blood , Oblations Fee , Which at thy shrine from Hart I sacrifice : I know t will doe thee good and liketh thee , And I bestow it in most hartie wise . Neuer ●o much I of my life did make , But that I could dispend it for thy sake . What needst thou then ad water to the Seas , Beames to the Sunne , or light vnto the Day , When I more readie am , if so thou please , My selfe to kill , then thou my life to slay ? Ah let me know thy minde , thus vex not still , A kinde of Pitie t is , quickly to kill . In stately Bed twixt sheetes more white then snow , Where late my Pearle mine ALBA faire did lie , I restlesse vp and downe tosse to and fro , Whilst trickling teares distill from blubbred eye . Ah gentle sleepe do thou deuise some Meane , For comfort mine , whilst I of her shall dreame . You downy Pillowes , you which but of late , Her daintie selfe did kindly entertaine , ( Once ) of two louing Bodies charge do take , By your soft yeelding , call her back againe : For she is gone , and Troynouant hath left , And being gone , my hart with he● hath rest . For both of vs here 's roume enough to see , We b●th in rest with ease may here remaine , And he●e two soules ( vnited ) one , shall bee , Two bodies ( ioynd together ) One , not twaine . But t is in vaine , for were she here I know , Though you agreede , agree she would not so . Yet call her back , and pray to her for me , For I am hoarse with praying ouer long· Ah to no purpose t is to call , I see , She cannot heare , she too too farre is gon . Yet will I still her praises haroldise , And mongst the beautious Saints her canonise . Heare me , a Martyr for religious Loue , Thou Faire Tormentor , ( Motiue of my paine ) All Racks and Tortors gainst my patience proue , And when th' hast done , begin afresh againe . Wearie shalt thou be of tormenting me , Before I grieued at these plagues will be . Too deare I prise thy beautie to repent , Or wish I had not such sower stormes endur'd : Though I thy hard hart finde nere to relent , Custome and time , to woes ha●e me inur'd . What ill so great but I would willing take , And beare the brunt assur'd of thy sweet sake . The sweet remembrance of thy sight of yore , Th' only companion is of my deare life , Thy presence was , which absent I ado●e , My paradise and place of ioy most rife . So I al●ne am not , though None 's with mee , And was in Heauen , when I thy face did see . But this thou thinkst not of , this is least part Now of thy minde , nor hast thou hereof care : This neuer comes God knowes into thy hart , But as heat 's ioynd with fire , and breath with aire : So crueltie in Womens stomacks dwels , Which with Disdaine ( as Furie ) alwaies swels . Ye Valleys deep withouten bottome found ; Ye Hils that match with height the azure skie ; Ye Caues by Nature hollow vnder ground , Where quiet rest and silence alwaies lie , Thou gloomy Aire which euer to the sight Bringst darknes still , but neuer cheerfull light . Ye vncouth Paths , ye solitarie walks , Ye breakneck Rocks , most ghastly for to see , Ye dreadfull Dens where neuer any stalks , And where scarce hissing Serpents dare to bee : Ye fatall Vaults where murdred Corses lie , Haunted with hatefull sprites continuallie . Ye Wildernesses and ye Deserts wilde , Ye strangie Shores nere yet inhabited , Ye Places from all pleasures quite exilde , Where sad Melancholy and Griefe is fled , Heare me , who am a shadow and a Ghost , Damnd with eternall sorrow to be crost . Heare me , since I am come for to bewaile , Mongst you , my Faith , my Constancie , and Loue , I hope with my lowd Cries and drerie Tale , Though not the Heauens , yet Hell at least to moue : Since more the Griefes are which within me grow , Then Heauen hath Pleasures , or Hel , Plagues below . ●ow can the ship be guided without Helme , ●he storme arising in a troubled Sea ? Needs must the churlish Waues it ouerwhelme , Needs must it drowne , and cast away must bee . How should I liue , and not my life enioy ? Feeding on Griefe , what should I taste but Noy ? ●h Cupid thinke vpon thy Seruant true , ● craue for my Deserts but some reward : ●eeke mine Owne , not more then is my due , Hate for Goodwill to reape is too too hard . If I for Well with Ill am payd againe , Had I done ill , what then had bin my paine ? Loue with Remembrance lieth in my breast , All other Thoughts he cancels out of minde : To thinke what s past I cannot quiet rest , Yet I in those Conceits strange Ioy doe finde , Whils●●ow for her I think All I forsooke , And wholly to her Grace my selfe betooke . My wonted Mirth is turned into Mone , Because my state is changde and altred quite : In company I am as One alone , Whilst what doth Others please , doth me dispite . Ah when shall I once from these Plagues be free ? Neue● , lesse ALBA Mercie shew to mee . My ioyles Hart a troubled Spring is like , Which from the top● of matchles Alpes most hie , Falls with a mightie noise downe headlong right , By vncouth stony wayes most dreadfully , Where all his Hopes he in the Deepe doth drowne , A fatall signe of fortunes heauie frowne . Darke pitchie clowdes of hugie Mountaines steepe , The loftiest part do hide from Sunny heate : Seeld any winde of Pitie there doth fleete , Them to dissolue , their thicknes is so great . For no calme Aire of gentle Loue doth blow , Where swelling Anger frets in furious show . Thence doth my Tributarie Hart forth send , Through peable stones , now here , now there along , A little Brooke into the Sea to wend , As signe that I my dutie would not wrong : For ALBA mine , ( Degree aboue Compar● ) A large Sea is of sundrie Beauties rare . A bitter cause , me bitter teares makes shed , Whose enuious Stepdame is a Froward Will , Which is by Selfe conceit too wanton fed , Th' efficient cause that I these drops distill : Which though in outward shew you white them see , Yet pure Red blood they in my Bodie bee . ●et baseborne Mindes of basest matters treate , My selfe ( with them ) to trouble I not list : The vulgar sort ( they know not what ) do speake , Whilst gainst the Truth and Vertue they persist . HONOR 's the marke whereat I seeke to aime . Shame light on them that think on beastly shame . ●o many men , so many Mindes ( they say ) Yet at the last Truth alwaies shall preuaile , Bringing her vowed Foe vnto her bay , Falshood ( I meane ) for all her masked Vaile . No Woman blame I , only I do seeke , Swanlike to sing , of my faire Sunne I le●ke . The Beauties which in other Ladies be , ● neuer had once thought for to disgrace ▪ Mine ALBA hath enough in store for me , Thousand of Amours finde I in her face : Her wo●ld I praise , whose looks haue pleasde me euer , From whom in hart disioynd I will be neuer . Faine would I make mine infant Pen to swell , Through feruent zeale to blaze her Deitie , That he her praise as Oracle might tell , Raising the same t 'the skies bright Canopie : That she ( since she deserues ) might famous bee , Beyond the Bounds of All●●ons vtmost Sea .
The Conclusion of the first Part. WHo so acquainted is not with my minde , Nor knowes the Subiect faire of whom I write , Nor how mine ALBA me , to her doth binde , Of whom I still discourse , talke , and endite . How I doe hope , how I doe feare and grieue , How I doe die , and how ( againe ) I liue . Let him but LOVE seeke out , and him demaund ; And he shall wonders strange to him declare , Such as at Beauties gaze shall make him stand , So exquisite , so strange , they be and rare , Hee le tell him of so rich a Precious stone , As like before hath been enioyde of none . And if he be desirous for to know , The Heauen where my faire Angell doth abide , Northwest from Troynouant he will him shew , Alongst which place , faire MERSIE cleere doth glide . WAR IN that TOWNE , LOVE ( Lordlik●●●epeth stil , Yet she ( ore him ) triumphs with chastest will . Some say she 's Louely Browne ; but I dare say She is Faire , BEAVV ? SE , so Faire as Faire may be , Fairer then is the breake of beautious Day , When sweete Aurora smileth in her glee . Put why doe I praise her selfe praising Face ? I praise her not , t is she , ( her selfe ) doth grace . R. T.

THE SECOND PART OF THE MONETHS MIND OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER .

By R. T. Gentleman .

AT LONDON . Printed by Felix Kingston , for Matthew Lownes . 1598.

Alla Crudelissima . THese few ( yet zealous ) line come● from my hart , Dried with my Sighs , and written with my Teares , I send to her the Author of my smart , ●hough ( subtill Serpent like ) she stop her eares : Who , more to her I sue , her Grace to gaine , The more incenst against me doth remaine . ● loue not I to pharisie , nor praise My selfe , for to her owne selfe I appeale , ●f I deuoted haue not bin alwaies , To do her good , as one that sought her weale . Heauens I forsweare , and vtterly abiure , If that my Faith be tainted or vnpure . Malleuolent , Malicious , Planet , Starre , Was it my Fortune , so for to be borne , My COTE so true , to haue so crosse a BAR , That for my seruice thus she should me skorne ? Must my deere Sunne eclipsed be with Spite ? Must enuious Clowdes still seeke to dark my Light ? What remedie ? I le think t was Fortune mine , And not her fault ) that wro●ght me all this paine : Her Crueltie t was not , but Destnie mine , My selfe , not she , was cause of mine owne bane : Yet shal the world by this my LOVES MONTHS MIND , A ●hast Fault , though no Follie in her finde . Since that mine ALBA tooke her leaue of mee , I leaue haue tooke of pleasure and of ioy : And did with sorrow at that time agree , To soiorne with him in his chiefe Annoy . My Woes ( still greene ) encrease continually , Which faine I would , but cannot remedie . And were it not but that my dauntlesse Hart , Doth comfort me with hope of better cheere , I soone would rid me of this vncouth smart , And leaue this life which I haue bought too deare . Oft do I weep to LOVE , and him I pray , Either to ease my paines , or me to slay . Yet though I beg , I finde but small reliefe , As do at Rich mens gates the Needy poore : Who more they crie to aggrauate their griefe , The lesse they finde their Almes at the doore . So LOVE , the more my cries I to him sen● , The lesse my plants , he skornefull doth attend . And yet my sute is small , small is the Grace That I desire , ( for somewhat I deserue ) T is only for to die before her face , From whom in Dutie ( yet ) I nere did swerue : That she might know my life doth me annoy , Vnles I might her company enioy . Ladie , when first vpon faire Venus Day , I came acquainted with thy seemely ●elfe , And vowde thy loyall Votarie to stay , Proffring to thee my liuing , life and welth : As I was then , so am I still the same , Neuer to change , for change exchangeth shame . Within the Center of mine inward Hart , ( As signe of euerlasting Monument , Which fatall Death shall hardly from me part ) Thy high prizde Loue full surely haue I pent , Neuer to be remou'd , but there to lie , World without end for aye , continuallie . For thee I longde , for thee I much did dare , For thee I hopte and feard , bid sweet and sower : Liking thee , I ▪ for Others did not care , Ore this my Hart thou hadst so great a power . All othe● Faces , ( in respect of thine ) I skornde as Masks , thou only seemst Diuine . Since LOVE , then me with such affection framde , That he hath me adopted Thine , alone , That I delight not but to heare thee namde , And only like to heare thy praises showne . Ah keepe thy plighted Faith vnstainde to me , Though now farre off from hence thou Absent be . Disdaine assaulted hath mine ALBA faire , Fixing fast foot deep in her marble brest : A blacksome Clowde hath darkt my beautious Aire , Where cheerfull Sunne before with smile did rest . She most vnlike her selfe a Tyrant showes , Whilst as a Tiger mad with rage she growes . All for her pleasure ( me for to displease ) Pitie she bandies from her tender hart : Poyson , not honey , now must her appease : Yet my Desire runs headlong to his smart , Headlong he runs to her spite-tainted minde , Which ouer fierce and cruell he doth finde . My hopeles Chance , through Vaile ( as t were ) I see , Her quondam beautious eyes are bloodshot now : Exorde , desirde , intreated , they 'le not be , They 'le not relent , repent , nor yeeld or bow : Lightnings of Anger they do shew arigh● ▪ Thunders of Furie darting forth despight . The dangers great my harmeles Hart doth spi● , Yet for all this , from her he 'le not retire : And whilst more humble he fore her doth lie , The more she sullen swels with wrathfull Ire . A Monster then I may her mirorise , Since she delights in such strange Tragedies . Dried hath th' iniurious Feuer those faire Flowers , Which in the cheekes of my faire ALBA lay : Scorcht are those paradized coloured Bowers , LOVES LOBBIE where he wantonly did play : Yet not extinguisht is mine amorous flame , Some sparkes are yet remainders of the same . As she lookes now , so lookes the Moone in skies , When mongst the gloomie clowdes portending raine , She with her watrie horned head forth pries , Spreading abrode her dewie beames amaine : So we Aurora vse for to depaint , Mongst palish violets , when she looketh faint . Pitie is mixt with griefe in her faire face , And Griefe with Pitie in the same conioyne , Where LOVE ( though sick ) sits with a louely grace , In midst of sickly palenes in her eyne . Sicknes it selfe so louely nere did looke , But since her Inne in ALBAS breast she tooke . That stately Haughtines she had before , Now changde is into low Humilitie : And that same glance that faithles was of yore , Now faithfull sheweth and full of Loyaltie . So with her Colour if she did Cruell take , Yet Pitifull her Palenes doth her make . Like bloodie Lion , or a stinging Snake , With proud Disdaine to aggrauate my smart , Loue into me ( vnaskt ) his way doth take , Died all with blood , ( and Blood t is of my Hart ) Which wounded deepe , still languishing doth lie , Expecting euery minute when to die . Thousands of Wounds my life hath quite bereft , And wanting blood , Palenes sits in my face : My soule this Corse ( his mansion House ) hath left , Nor dares he back retire to his old place . This Martyrdome , although there 's many see , None me caresseth , or doth comfort mee . My Life runnes fondly to his mortall Foe , Hoping for Help , where he his hurt did finde : My spirits after him amaine doe goe , Whilst liueles Bodie doth remaine behinde , On which grim death doth seaze , as on h●s pray , And of his breath to reaue him doth assay . A farre off Peace I see , but Warre at hand , Loue single strikes me , ( but with double paine ) Kild is my hart by Cruell she 's Command , And he that slew him cleped is Disdaine : Loe here of my kinde Dame the Exercise , Hate is her Chapman , Blood her Marchandise . Praxitiles , and Myron ( workmen rare ) Apelles skilde , learnde Homer ( famous wight ) Were these aliue , the Picture of my Faire To carue , to cut , to paint , and thereof write , In marble , brasse , boord , or in bookes at large , They sone would faint , ore prest with so great charge . And yet may be her beautious Countenance , With chisell , toole , with pensell and with pen , They rightly might haue shadowed ( though by chance ) Because they , in their Age were rarest Men. But had they come the nobler part to show , Their cunning then had soone tooke th' ouerthrow . If my bright Sunne ( renowmd per Excellence , Through the illustrious splendar of her gleames ) Doth dimme and darken our Intelligence , By vertue of her more then radiant beames : What Hand or Thought in hand could euer take , A worke so endles , with good end to make ? Deare ALBA I by thee am still forbid , By Statue , Image , Picture , or by Verse , To shew the Vertues rare within thee hid , As not being able least part to rehearse , It shall suffice ( as sacred ) I admire , Thy spotles life , thy more then chast Desire . To thee farre off ( from me ) these sighs I send , To thee farre off from Loue , I , neere to die , To know if thou thy selfe will minde wilt mend , Desisting from thy hatefull Crueltie . Beautie if it be milde , it is renound ; If it be proud , a foule reproch t is found . Thou makst a shew as if thou wouldst be kinde : But t is a shadow , not a substance right : For comming vnto triall straight I finde , Thy sdainfull chast lookes puts my Hope to flight : Whilst thou dost seeme at these my Woes to grieue , Yet them with succour neuer dost relieue . Thy Griefe ( for me ) a passion 's in a play , Which men doth rauish with Melancholy : But acted once , and out of sight away , In minde , no longer there doth stay , but dy : Thou art the Actor playing such a part , My griefes neere deeply pearce into thy hart . O would I could from Reasons Court obtaine , A Supersedeas , LOVE for to remoue , From out my Breast to thee to ease my paine , That thou the force thereof a while mightst proue . But Destnie wils that I thy slaue do stay , And so I will , who bound is , must obey . Why haue the Heauens thus changed mine Estate ? Deseruing well to complot my Decay ? Why rather was not so ordainde my fate , That ALBA nere should wend from me away ? I neuer changing my first vowed Loue , Why should ( vnconstant she ) from me remoue ? ( Fond man ) is she vnconstant to be calde , Who after course of world doth runne her race ? Are not all men by fortune puld and halde , Neuer to bide ( still ) in one certaine place ? Nothing is more commended in the Sea , Then th'often Ebbings , and the Flowings bee . Ah ALBA , if thou shouldst continue still In one selfe place , t' would be a Paradise : But thou ( t' allay our proud Affectio●s will ) T' eclipse thine owne perfections dost deuise , Think●●g it is enough , if but with eye We ioy a small glimse of thy Maiestie . Then to encrease our Griefes , thou dost decrease Our pleasures , and thy selfe from vs dost hide , When we for nothing lookt but peace and ease , Euen at thy Best , and in thy Beauties pride . But why talke I , where I cannot be hard ? Or heard she me , she would not me regard . Where are my Vowes withouten number now ? My teares withouten measure that I shed ? My skalding sighs to make proud ALBA bow ? They all are gone , forgot , quite banished . Yet though they not deserue her loue they craue , Me thinks some better fortune they should haue . But if the Gods in iudgement partiall fit , Vnequall viewers of each iniurie : And with condigne reuenge seeke not to quit So monstrous wrong , such nere heard Crueltie : Why then I Reason none for Louers see , That they should bide such paine for loyaltie . Yet neither Hopes preferment , were it great , Nor feare of punishment , though to my paine : Nor counsell of the Wisest that entreat , Nor company of best where I remaine , Shall euer make me once my Humour change , Nor from my first deuoted Vow to range . My youths chiefe Flower ( of all my life the prime ) In melancholy passion I will spend : Careles behauiour shall my latter time ( Because ( forsooke ) she cares not for me ) end . Thus will I still continue during breath , Doting on her , who doth deuise my death . Fond that I am like Greekish Wrastler vaine , Striuing to lift a waight impossible , I caught so strange incurable a straine , As thereby ( brused sore ) I brainsick fell : Fixing my thoughts aboue my reach , I fall Into Disease , without recure at all . The stately Cedar whose tops seeme in show , For height , to reach vnto the azur'd skie , Neuer his head bowes to the shrubs below , That in the deepe and hollow Valleys lie . Th' yuie that climing vp by th' elme doth runne , Neuer can get hold of the beames of Sunne . ALBA I honor in humilitie , Whom none ought , or should dare venter to loue : Though I presume with importunitie , Sometimes my sute ( in vaine to her to moue : For her ●ffections be immortall , rare , Her vertues such as infinite they are . Then suffer me to gaze on ALBA mine , With my mindes eyes , though absent now she be : I knew when I enioyde her sight ( ah happie time ) That time ( I feare ) I neuer more shall see . But t is all one , for were the Cruell here , I of my purpose should be nere the neere . Am I so mad , to thinke that such a Toy , As Sorcerie is , should ought preuaile for me , That witchcraft power hath for to make me ioy ; And cause me here , mine absent Mistres see ? I cannot chuse but thinke all to be tales , And that Enchantment little here preuailes . What though the Sunne is darkened by this skill , And Moone 's remoude from out her setled cours ; Wilde beasts made stand , amazed , tame , and still , And waters turnde from their first wonted sours : Yet cannot Art , by force make setled Loue , From his first Center ( where he resteth ) moue . The Gods , not men , do rule the inward Hart , They can appoynt Affection as they please ; Stones , Yearbs , and Words , may vsen be by Art ; Yet these the Louers griefes can smalely ease , Not Exorsisms , Spels , Mettals , Planets , Fire , Can alter once the setled firme Desire . Then I le with Discontent be satisfied , And hopeles liue in hope , though Hope in vaine : Resoluing all base coynes to abide , Since I despaire her grace for to obtaine : Vnhappie I , may case ore desperate , No Skill nor cunning can my paine abate . Hard hap had I , to fall into thy hand , Who giu'st thy selfe to endles crueltie ; When to thy flintie heart wilt giue command , To change his wont , and somewhat gentler be ? Wilt thou thy Beautie faire , adulterise , And seekst thou still on me to tiranise ? I ft possible thy yeares so few and small , So many ancient mischiefes should containe , Thy swelling pride , I long haue borne withall , Because that Beautie thereof is to blame . Which still the more in fairenes it exceedes , The more it ioyes in coy disdained deedes . I grieue at thy deuises gainst me wrought , And sorrow , that wits sharper that they show , The shroder and vnhappier should be thought , Prone vnto ill , but vnto Goodnes slow . But for ●o seeke to murther ( through disdaine ) A harmeles heart , is worse then Murderers staine . What moues thee then , thy selfe thus to disgrace , Vnfitting for thy Sex , where nought should be But kindenes milde ; far altring from thy face , Where nothing but rare beautie we can see ? If then so faire a Sunne , such foule cloudes hide , Let me still in eternall Darkenes bide , The bitter plaints wherewith my soule I wound , With skalding sighs which smoke from forth my breast : My cheekes through griefe , pale wan and hollow found , My troubled Thoughts which reaue me of my re●t : Salt watrie teares , which raine from blubb●ing eye , Warme blood from Ha●t distilling inwardly . The seruile yoke which did my freedome breake , My willing minde to doe what wild Command , The state wherein I brought my selfe most weake , The frost and fire wherein I still did stand , The snare in which LOVE wrapt me so about , As from the same I nere ( yet ) could get out . All these , and many another worser griefe , Are no such plagues as is that Marble Hart , ( That Marble Hart ) that yeelds me no reliefe , Nor euer sought some comfort to impart . The reuolution of the Heauens , nor any ●ime , Can make ( that Breast ) to yeeld to my Designe . Vertue doth hinder it , in my despight , Chaste Honestie maintaines her in her force : Then LOVE farewell , all Hope I le banish quite , I see in Flint is found no kind remorse . If Teares , Vowes , Gifts , Prayers , Othes no good can doe , Nor Loue obtaine ; in vaine t is then to sue . Deare to my Soule ( for Deare I may thee call , ) Since thou farre dearer then my selfe I holde , When wilt thou rid me from this loathed thrall , In which I am through Fancies bandes enrold ? When wilt thou keepe thy promise vnto mee ? Whereof no deedes , but words I yet can see . Why ( doubtfull still ) doest thou my ioyes prolong ? And driuste me of , in dalliance without cause ? Me and thy selfe , why doest thou double wrong ? To keepe thy word , why , so long doest thou pause ? Thus for to lo●e thy golden ●ime , t is sin , Which once being past , againe , thou canst not win . Matters of state we vse to politize , Procrastinating for aduantage great , LOVE , lingring hates , and lothes to temporize , Delaie's too ●olde , for his orewarmed heate : Ah , doe not driue me of thus ( still ) in vaine , Still for to lose t is much , once let me gaine . Dearer to me then th' apple of mine eyes , Let word and deede , but once for all agree , Not any can in face thee equalize , If but a little more thou kinde wouldst be . Then with allusiue Sightes , feede not me still , But graunt ( at last ) for to performe my will . Ye luke warme Teares which from my nere dride eyes , Streame downe amaine like fountaines day and night , Wende to my Lady in most humble wise , And shew to her , my most vnhappie plight : Wende vnto her , who outwardly in shew , Seemes pittifull , but ( inward ) is not so . Weepe you ●o her and say ; I st possible A Creature that so courteous seemes to all , Shoulde haue a hart more cruell and more fell Then Tiger , harder then a stony wall ? Ah why seemes she not inwardly as kinde , As she doth outward shew , the world to blinde ? This my Icarian soaring ( boue my reach ) ( Though Beautie , serenising fals my Hart ) How I ore bolde , my headlong fall doth teach , Whilest LOVE doth play gainst me a subtile part : Yet Beauties Birth I am , by her I breath , Though liue against her fauour and her leaue . Wilde fire with milke is quencht , rigor with teares , Yet naught her stubborne minde can mollifie , Vnto my prayers she stops her deafened eares , And with Despayre requites my Courtesie , Thus am I still starre crossed in my Loue , As one bewitcht , with whom no good doth proue . How long shall I diue in this vastie Sea , To finde this Perle , this Orient MARGARITE ! How long this bottome founding shall I be ? Yet nere attaine this precious Iewell bright ? My labors ( like to Hercules ) abound , Who more he did , the more to doe , stil found . I am too weake with Ospraies eyes to looke , Against the fierie beames of this faire Sun , Too great a Burthen haue I fondly tooke , For my weake shoulders long since ouercome . The more I seeke , the farther I , to finde , Like to the wretch , that of his sight is blinde . My brused Bulwarke is not strong enough , For to resist this beautious Batterie , My yoke too small , to draw so huge a plough , Mine eyes too dimme , such Brightnes to descries This sh●wes , that as vnluckie I was borne , To die vnfortunate I must not scorne . Yet I le not leaue to intercessionate , To her hard Breast , for my too gentle Hart : That if her Rigor she 'le not mitigate , At least she 'le somewhat ease me of this Smart : I onely craue , if she 'le not yeelde reliefe , T'adiourne my paine , and to proroge my Griefe . Thrise trebble blessed BRACELET , rich in prise , I enuie not thy perlie fret , nor golde , But fortune thine , because in happie wise , The place of perfect pleasure thou dost holde . About that wrist thou turnst and windst so oft , More white then Snow , then thistle down more soft . Base mindes loue Golde , t is not thy Golde I steeme , For this I onely value thee at much , Because an Ornament th' art to be seene , Of her white Hand yclept of right , NONESVCH , NONESVCH indeede , whose Beautie is so rare , As nere the like , attainde the perfects Faire . This is the cause so highlie I thee rate , As all the golden Mines of Indian ground , Nor Seas of Pearle can counteruaile thy state , Wherein thou art this present to be found . And , if that trueth I shall confesse inde●●e , The wealth of all the world thou dost exceede . But when I marke , how by strange cunning Art , Faire louelie Haires , with Pearle and Golde conioyne , A pleasing ioy doth seaze vpon my Heart , Whilest with strange pleasures , Fancie feeds my mind , So as ( sweete BRACELET ) thou dost rightly proue , To be th' enchantment of bewitching LOVE . Liue Louely Fame , which when thou first didst take , Possession of my Heart , wert stony colde , And bashfull ; but when entrance thou didst make , Then , as Triumphant thou didst keepe thy holde : Changing both Thought & state , that where before Colde chillie Yee was , hot Desire burnt sore . If I thee honor , worship , serue , and loue , He knowes , who guides the restles Globe on high , But enuious Fates on me their force doe proue , And me , from thee haue banisht spitefully . So that more paine I doe each houre abide , Then if that thousands sorts of deaths I dide . But fore that peereles matchles shape of thine , ( The better part wherein my Soule doth rest ) Shall out of minde , or memory of mine , ( Whereby I only happy liue and blest , ) All things shall chaunce , impossible that be , My selfe , forget my selfe will I , fore thee . The Sunne shall lose his power , and darke become , The Skies shall melt , and into horror fall , The earth shall sinke , the world be quite vndone , And fore this chance , all strange things happen shall . Though ( now ) thou bidste in Albions fruitfull land , And I , where Mantuan Duke , his Court doth stand . Mantua . Such as do liggen in Delight and ioy , And haue what Hart can wish , or Thought deuise , Spending their time withouten dire Annoy , Liuing amongst their friends in iocondwise , And who with Loue of Ladies theirs are blest , May in Eternam Requiem , happie rest . Me , sillie Trauailer ( a pilgrim poore ) ( Who through hard hap these blessings all do misse ) Care doth become , since want I do endure Of Countrie , Friends , and Loue , my chiefest blisse : And yet this CARE not Ill , but well , with mee , Obseruing still Decorum doth agree . A Trauailer , farre from his Natiue coast , With Care doth rise , with Care him downe doth lay : And though from piller tost he be to poste , When All him leaue , yet Care with him doth stay . Not like vaine pleasure , who away doth p●ake , When he his Bark through want perceiues to leake . Thanks then to Care , of Poore the comfort chiefe , The best companion that we Strangers finde , In Countries strange forlorne , without reliefe , Who quiet , gentle , patient is and kinde . Then constant CARE , not Comfort I do craue , And ( might I chuse ) I CARE with L. would haue . This Tower , this Castle , this huge Prison strong , Begirt with high and double fenced Wall , ( Where I to be kept prisoner , thus haue wrong ) Can neuer hurt , nor do me harme at all : Since I was pent here , I am ( nothing changde ) But as before , when I abrode still rangde . This place restraines my Bodies libertie , But hath no power ouer my Thoughts or Minde , Which is the cause I count my selfe most free , Though I my selfe in greatest Bondage finde , I can so feede on Fancie , and subdue Enuie , by sweet Imagination true . No sweeter Musick to the Miserable , Than is Despayre : therefore the more I feele Of bitternes , of sorrow sower and fell , The more of Sweetnes it doth seeme to yeeld . Vaine ' esteeme my life , all libertie , Since I do want mine ALBAS Companie . Vse , Miserie hath made familiar now With me , that I count sorrow chiefest Ioy : And him the welcomst Guest I do alow , That saddest tales can tell of bloodiest Noy . Then ( Cruell ) think what life I still haue led , Since so in post away from me th' art fled . Thrice precious purse , by daintie Hand ywrought , Of Beauties First Borne , Fauours rightfull Heire , Not for a world of wealth , purchast or bought , But freely giuen ( for Loue ) by ALBA faire : Giuen to me , vnworthie of the same , As one not meriting so great a Gaine . T is not the richnes hereof , though t is much , Nor rarenes of the worke surpassing skill , That I account of , though that it be such , As euery eye , with masement it doth fill : But cause t' was made by that Alconquering Hand , Whose becke , euen Loues own self doth countermand . Dan Fortunatus Bagge , which Histories Affirme , endles to be for golden store , And that it helde of Quoyne Infinities , To this my purse is needy , base and poore , Golde in the inside ( onely ) of his purse wa● seene , But mine , hath ( alwaies ) Golde without and 〈◊〉 ▪ Pure gold t is wrought with , yet her Haires more bright , Saft is the Silke , more fast her snowie skinne , Orient the Perle , yet are her teeth more white , The Culler● rare ; her cheekes the prise , tho winne : Ah precious Purse , where what I doe beholde , Are Cullours rare , fine Perle , saft Silke , pure Golde . Warme showers raine fast from forth my blubbred eyes , My heauie Thoughts are Clowdes ●eplete with woes : Hot liuely Flames from out my breast arise , My skalding sighs the wind 's that forth them blowes : Fire burning Cancer and Aquarius cold , Ore me their powers predominant do hold . The flames , thems●lues vp to the heauens lift , Where they by thousands round about doe turne : The waters runne like to a Torrent swift ; Hence comes it that my selfe I drowne and burne , By reason of two spitefull Qualities , ( Moysture and Heate ) my life in danger lies . My teares a great streame make , they so abound , A quenchles burning this my secret Fire : Hope doth despaire , and there her selfe hath drownde , And Hart to cinders burnes through her Desire : Fancie 〈◊〉 frolike , and doth still reuiue , Reason's so sick , not long shee le keepe aliue . ALBA my Teares accounteth as a Toy , And for a sport mine ardent Heat she holds : For in her eyes , Cocitus ( me to noy ) And Phlegeton in breast she fierce enfolds . Thus she my Hart doth still anatomise , With keenest rasor of her Crueltise . Haires louely Browne immur'd with pearle and gold , How ill fits you this Ribbon Carnatine , Since I no more your Mistris now behold , Of my disaster , most vnlucky signe , Who to me gaue this Bracelet for a FAVOVR , A work by Beautie framde through LOVES true labour ▪ How often would she , bout my Wrist still prie , And vnderminde me ( by deuise ) as t were , Making a shew of Doubt and Ielousie , As if I it forgot bout me to beare ? But now I feare me , through her staying ore long , Both LOVE , Her self , and Me , she much doth wrong . Who euer saw a Beautie such , so faire , Lodgde in a subiect so vnconstant found ? Who euer saw more loyall Louer rare , To ●uch hard Fortune ( causeles ) to be bound ? Ah why is not ( as is her face ) her Minde , Th' one's Faire , the other , I Forgetfull finde . Then louely Haires , my dearest Harts best Ease , You must from Handwrist mine to Hatband black : There must you bide , though me it doth displease , Since whom I would , I most of all do lack . This sable place doth fit you best to mourne , Where you vnseene , shall lie till she returne . ●h happie Handkèrcher , that keepst the signe , As only Monument vnto my Fame ) How deare my Loue was to sweet ALBA mine , When ( so ) to shew my Loue she did me blame . Relique of LOVE I do not enuie thee , Though whom thy Master cannot , thou dost see . Only let me intreat this Fauour small , When in her chamber all alone by chance , Open her pretie Casket for some work she shall , And hap her eye on thee vnwares to glance : Ah , then the colour of her face but marke , And thou by that shalt know her inward hart . If she shall blush , and grieue , thee so to view , And wistly cast on thee a piteous eye , It is a signe her loue continues true , And that her faith she doth not falsifie . Ah , the● ( a fresh ) ( her faith more firme to moue ) Bleed thou againe , for to reuiue her Loue . But if she ( seeing thee ) no account doth make , Flinging thee here and there without regard : Know then expired is my louing Date , My Hope deceiu'd , my Fortune ouer hard . Yet if she doth but sighing say to thee , ( Saftly ) ( Farewell deare SERVANT ) happie mee . Those ebbon windowes sweete , those cheerfull eyes , Where LOVE ( at LAWGH and sweete looke on ) doth play Are on the sudden changde in strangie wise , And do Disdaines Ensigne ( gainst me ) display : Darke now they seeme , and sower , ore passing bad , Making my life seeme to me black and sad . Those cheerfull eyes , which wont to comfort me , And to mine hangrie soule yeeld nourishment , Denie me food , nor will they pleased be , But mew me vp , as starueling closely pent . My walks I v●de , which faire and easie were , Are stopt with blood-drawing brambles euery where . My crased hart thus skorned for his Loue , And plagude with proud disdaine and sdainfull Pride , Wa●les so as would a Rock ( though flintie ) moue : Nor ●etter course hath this Disgrace to bide , Then sighs and Teares , which forth he se●ds apace , And damned like ) still begs , but nere finds grace . Sweet stay of my weake tottring life nie falne , ●alme to my wounds , and Cordiall to my griefe , ●●ght to my darknes , to my storme , milde Calme , Ease to my paine , and to my want , Reliefe . Ah who hath now ( and that so suddenly ) Of pitie thee depriu'd , to make me die ? Poore wasted Hart that wandrest not astray , Although the PEARLE her orient colour change : Thou , which in thy first Faith vnstaind dost stay , Although she from her plighted vow doth range . Ah , where are now thy cheerfull daies of Hope ? Thy Liues line , Loue , what wretched hand hath broke ? Alas , poore soule , how badly art thou vsde , For thy much louing ( louing ouer long ? ) Causeles without desert to be refusde , And for thy right to be repaid with wrong ? ( Fond ) do betimes from Fancies Fort retire , Reason retaine , and banish rash Desire . What meanst thou careles thus to seek thy Car● ? Call home thy Wits , giue ore although with losse : Els like one blindfold art thou caught in snare , And wilt too late returne by weeping crosse . Seest no● that shut is Loues sweet passage plaine , That opens wide the path of proud Disdaine ? If so , why shouldst thou beg ( in vaine ) for grace ? Rather demaund thy pasport and away : Better at first giue ore in midst of Race , Then lose in th' end , though longer time thou stay . Then if she 'le not admit thee as a frend , Let her thee manum it ( as Free ) to wend. O that I were where bides mine ALBA faire , Whose person to possesse is pleasure such , As driues away all melancholy Care , Which doth the Hart through Griefs impression touch Whose louely Locks All do more curious deeme , When they most careles to be dressed seeme . Her sweet Lookes most alluring be , when they Most chaste do seeme in modest glancing show : Her words , the more they vertuously do way , The more ( in coun● ) for amorous they go : Her dressings such , as when neglected most , She 's thought as then to haue bestowd most cost . Sweet Fortune , when I meet my louely Treasure , Dash my Delights with some small light disgrace , Lest I ( enioying sweetnes boue all measure ) Surfet without recure on that faire face . Her wonted coynesse let her vse a while , My fierce Desire by Diet to beguile . Lest with the fulnes of my ioyes , abate The sweetnes , and I perish straight before I do possesse them , at too deare a rate . But soft ( Fond Icarus ) how high wilt soare ? Thou dreamst I think , or foulie dost mistake , I dreame indeed , Ah might I neuer wake . Like as the Hawke cast from the Faulkners fist , Freed from the Mew doth ( ioyfull ) take his flight , Soaring aloft in th' aire as best him list , Now here , now there , doth finde no small delight , Enioying that , which Treasures all doth passe , ( His libertie ) wherefore he prisoner was . But when th' acquainted Hollow he doth heare , And seeth the Lure cast forth him home to traine , As one obedient full of awfull feare , He leaues his flight , and backward turnes againe , Chusing in ancient bonds for to be bound , Fore faithles to his Lord he will be found : So ( ALBA ) though I wanton , otherwhile , Do runne abrode , and other Ladies court , Seeking the time with pleasures to beguile , And oft my selfe with words of course do sport , Dissem●●●ng with Dissemblers cunninglie , As is the guise , with tongue , with hand , and Eye . Yet when I thinke vpon thy face diuine , Thy Beautie cals me home , straight as a Lure , All other banishing from Hart of mine , And in LOVES Bands to thee doth binde me sure . And since my Faith , and Fates do so ordaine , I am content thy prisoner to remaine . Where are those Haires so louely Browne in show ? Where is that snowy Mount of Iuorie white ? With damaske Rose where do the Lillies grow ? Whose Colours & whose sweetnes All delight ? Where are those cheerfull Lights , Lamps of cleere Loue , Wherein , a beautious Heauen doth alwaies moue Where are those Margarite Pearles withouten prise , And Rubies rich ( my matchles Treasures store ) With other Graces , wonders to the Wise , Worthy that euery Lawrell them adore ? I know not I , vnles in her they be , In Her who 's Faire , Alas too Faire for me . Why haue not then my Stars so courteous bin , In this to me , as they are in the rest , That I by loftie stile might Beautie win , And blaze abrode her praise deseruing best ? Why haue not I the Gift , her Gifts to th●nder , And make the world thereat admire and wonder ! Could I ( but as she doth deserue aright ) Sing as a Cignet sweete with pleasing vaine , Her Vertues rare , her staining Beauties sight , As I am blunt in Wit , and dull in Braine , I then should see , her Courteous , Gentle , Milde , Where now I finde her , Cruell , Proud and Wilde . Needes must I ALBA leaue , yet she 'le not part , Though I doe loue her , yet still my Desire , Seekes her to keepe in Closet of my Hart ; And though she doth against me thus conspire , Yet with my Soule , I must her Error moane , Since so vnkindelie she her selfe hath showne . My secret griefes I le in my selfe disiest ; The world shall neuer know her hatefull Pride , Her shame ( my Bane ) I will conceale in brest , And as a Monument there shall it bide . ALBA farewell , all pittie now is fled , And since t is so , Adew , I am but Dead . But thou ( my Hart ) come thou from her thy way ; T is time ( I thinke ) to leaue that witching face , Where too too much vnkindenes still doth stay ; For Loyall Loue , there is no resting place . Simple ●●odwill , to so●ourne findes it vaine , Where Thoughts are falls , and Double do remaine , My nere stainde Faith , my life shall testifie , To future Age , that shall hereafter come , To shew the world my spotles Loyaltie : And yet perhaps againe may shine the Sunne , When as my Trueth vnto her being knowne , She may at last receiue me for her owne .
The Conclusion of the second Part. IF I should count the spending of my time , Since Her I lost , with whom I left my life ; How I in Griefe without reliefe doe pine . My seldome Pleasures , and my Corsies rife , If I should take vpon me , these to tell , It were in vaine , for t' were impossibell . Yet still the more I suffer for her sake , The more my Hart doth studie to endure , The world shall know the Pennance he doth make , And how his Thoughts are loyall , chaste , and pure . So small account he maketh for to die , At his owne Death he seeketh wilfully . Of Her he still doth buzze me in the eare , And wil● me make a Iournie to that place , To haue a sight of Her , ( to him so deare ) Whose beautious shape all Beauties doth disgrace . Alas I would full faine , Her selfe doth know . But Danger to offend , doth still say No. Then since poore Hart , thou canst not haue thy will , But longst ●or what thou neuer shalt obtaine , Consume t●y selfe with thy recureles ill , As Women , that with Longing breede their ban● . And as thou diest , let this thy Comfort be , Thy LOVE was VERTVE , hers was CHASTITIE . R.T.
THE THIRD PART OF THE MONETHS MIND OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER .

By R. T. Gentleman .

AT LONDON . Printed by Felix Kingston , for Matthew Lownes . 1598.

Alla Crudelissima . LO here the course spun Web of Discontent , Extract from out the cause of my trew Griefe , The Quintesence of my Complaint close pent , Wherein my Hart hath line without reliefe : The Glasse wherein my sorrowes each may see , Thou cruell ALBA , thus haste plagued me . Thinke on the Mestfull MONTHS MINDE I still keepe , Depriude of thee , how I doe liue forlorne , All night I sigh , all day I waile and weepe , As one that hath all pleasures quite forsworne : Thus ( ca●efull I ) doe care for careles thee , Whilst wretchles thou , makst no account of mee . Knewst thou what t' were to Loue , and what to hate , I know with Malice thine thou wouldst dispence , And wouldst enhaunce my Bale to blissefull state , And Loue with Loue , not Rigor recompence ; Ah gainst me doe not thou thy wrath incite , Monstrous it is , Loue to repay●e with spite . Be gracious then , though I haue graceles bin , Let Fauour thine , aboue my Merit show , Against the Tide , why shouldst thou alwaies swim ; And as a froward Tortoys backeward goe ? Not Night , but Light giue me with those faire Eyes , Fierce Serpents ( not milde Doues ) enuenomise . To thee ( Deare Faire ) that mak'st me fare amisse , To thee my Goddesse I my prayers make , And prostrate fall before thy Shrine of Blisse , Crauing of thee , that them in worth thou take , Whilest I to thee my Hart in humble wise , Vpon thy beautious Altar sacrifise . Peruse with kindenes this my sad complaint , Since I with pacience doe abide the paine , And but thy willing eare herewith acquaint , So thy remembrance not forget the same : Thy hart gainst me , not still induratize , But my sad thoughts in me retranquillize . I will not leaue , vntill I leaue to loue , ( And leaue to loue , I will not till I die ) But thy hard flintie Breast , I le somewhat moue , To moane my Griefe , the cause I alwaies crie . Crie will I to thee till my Voyce be ho●rse , And neuer leaue thee till thou take remorse . From thy faire eyes , the Sunnes Pr●cursors bright , This fire hath sprung , which all my parts doth burne , No Art-Enammeld lines that I do write , No praies nor praiers , to Mercie th●e ●an turne : Yet come the worst , the Age ( to come ) shall say , I bare the prize for Constancie away . Burnham . Now earthly Goddesse haue thou some regarde To me thy seruant , crauing what is iust , Though long at last , yeelde to me some rewarde , Since I relie on thee , and wholy trust . Thinke on the pennance sore I doe endure , Which to my Soule , thine Absence doth procure . Support my feeble Thoughts , that scarse can moue , For thou wert wont , such , better to commend , Who would persist more loyall in their Loue , And perseuere vnto the latest end , Then those , who when Loues course they gan to run , Would giue it ore , before halfe way were done . I cannot doe so , for my longing Hart , Is knit in thine , in such perfection strange , That Death these twaine in sunder cannot part , Nor length of Time , nor Places distance change : Thy Be●utious Vertue , Vertuous Beautie ti● , That makes me ioy in noy , take Bale for blis . Ah where art thou kinde Friendship that of yore , Still with thy cheerefull smile , didst comfort mee ? And sweetely wouldst with me my state deplore , When heauie , sad , and grieu'd thou didst me see ? Ah where are those Alcinoi daies as now ? I Metamorphosde am , I know not how . Cleere shines the Sonne , yet shines it not on me , Faire is the Morne , yet dark●ned is my Light , Others the Spring , I Fall of leafe doe see , Whilest I enioy no Day , but gloomy Night ; Thou art the cause ( sweete ALBA for thy Loue , In absence thine ) these bitter-Brunts I proue . Whilest thou like Princesse entertained art , By thy kinde Tenants in most dutious wise , Seeking to shew the zeale of their pure Hart , By all the pleasing meanes they can deuise . Striuing who shall thee better entertaine , ( Signes of thy welcome home to them againe . ) I here am left alone , all poste alone , As LOVES true Pledge , that lies for Faith to Pawne , Onely to waite thy parture and to mone , Whilest my Conceits on Sorrowes Tent are drawne , Like to the Bird , on solitarie branch , Wailing his Mates sowre losse through hard mischance . Then louely thou my Harts deare Treasurer , Let me obtaine this Fauour at thy Grace , That tho● delay no longer nor defer , But daine me once more , see thy heauenly face . Else here I vow , ( if so thou come not soone ) Me , shalt thou not see , thou shalt see my Foome . Now that my weary spirits do runne their race , To those transplendent Lamps of ALBA faire : And gazing there ( in vaine ) do plead for grace , Leauing their ancient lodging nakte and bare . She as their Foe stands on her Brauerie , And passage to their Entrance doth denie . They finding shut fast close milde Pities gate , And seeing in what danger I remaine , With haste returne from whence they came of late , Retiring to their wonted Home againe , Where they repose , of Hope quite dispossest , And there with Feare and Care together rest . Disdaine those eyes spoyles , that before were bright , And fierce Desire , that to reuenge hath minde Increaseth still in hart to worke me spite , Deuising how to make her more vnkinde : The or● , the Bellowes vnto Furie blowes , The other , Slaue to wrathfull Anger showes . But though to me she seemes as pitilesse , Seeking my Death , without cause to conspire : Yet wi●● I beare with all wrongs nere the lesse , Resolu'd to bide the vtmost of her Ire : Against her wrath I le true and Humble be , For Faith 's my Fence , my Shield's , Humilitie . Poore Meleager being in disdaine , With furious Altea ( cruell mother his ) She flang his fatall Brand in firie flame , Long time kept by her , ( as her chiefest blis ) So as through fire it did ( consumde ) decay , His wretched life did peece-meale waste away . Altea , mine ALBA is , Meleager , I , The fatall Brand where bides my life , her Loue : No longer then she keepes this happely For me , no longer may my spirits moue , Long time Affection kept it , but as now , She flings it in the flame with angrie brow . Anger 's the Fire , Suspect kindles the Flame , Conceit 's the Bel●owes , wherewith she doth blow : Haste was the hand which flung it in the same , The Coles , Vnkindnes , that did burne it so . Ah , but one drop of Water of her Grace , If so I had , t would quencht be in small space . Thus do I burne , and burning breathe my last , And breathing last , to naught consume away : Like to that Lampe whose Oyle when it doth waste , By lesser light , and lesser doth decay . Yet in this Fire I crie still for to moue her , Ah pi●ie me th' vnhappiest loyall Louer . Thou solitarie Mountaine , Mount of Mone , Pleasing to me , mine only solace chiefe , How like are we ? we two seeme but as One , Since thou shewst sad , and I still , to haue Griefe , Thou with wilde sauadge Woods art compast round , And in my Breast sharp austere Thoughts are found . The huger Hill in bignes thou dost show , The more , ( All ) thee vncouth and sauadge deeme : The more that I in yeares in Loue do grow , The more deformed Creature I do seeme . Water from thee , from euery side doth come , And teares from out mine eyes as Fountaines run . Thou dost abide the blustring furious winde , The paine of skalding sighs perforce I feele : Tempests and stormes , to thee are oft vnkinde , But worse to me is ALBAS Hart of steele : Tho●●rooken art by Ioues sire from aboue , And I am blasted with Lightning of Loue . Thou wantest Fruit , and I am without Hart , Only in this my Griefes do thine exceede , That where as thou insensible still art , I ( liuing ) feele too well the Brunt indeede . Yet wert thou worse I like in thee to stay , Since that my Pearle , mine ALBA's gone her way : O that I might my Griefes set downe at large , And to the world make knowne mine Iniurie : But I not dare , the Cruell giues in charge Them to keepe close , and This beare patientlie : Being so grieuous , as but part to know , Would make the flintiest Hart to split for woe . Besides , if I my Crosses should reueale , They would renew my sorrowes fresh againe : Therefore I vowed haue them to conceale , The more to feele the depth of lasting Paine : Reaping not only discontent hereby , ●ut all Despayre of future remedie . How secret haue I bin , this seuen whole yeare , That scarce I haue not yet , nor yet scarce dare To tell her Name , I so much still do feare , To purchase th' anger of this ●dainfull FAIRE ▪ How Faithfull , that haue offred her to plea●e , To dye for her ? so ought I might her ease . But what auailes all this ? for all my griefe , I cannot hope she euer will be kinde : When she was present I nere found reliefe , And ( in her absence ) think you she 'le me minde ? O no , as likelie ●is , she 'le pitie mee , As I am like ( vnlikely ) her to see . ●o great a griefe did neuer pearce the Hart , Of any louing Mother ouer kinde , When she her only sonne readie to part , Doth see to forraine Countrie gainst her minde , Losing the staffe of her old Age and stay , On whom the Hope of all her Comfort lay ; As wofull I , when I those louely Eyes Saw to looke back , which I should see no more Of many daies , and when in pitious wise , They shewd by signes Our parting grieu'd them sore . Ah when her last looke back on me she cast , Then , then , I thought I should haue breath'd my last . Yet for my Harts sake did my spi●its reuiue , And life once more recouered they againe , Whilst staring after her I kept aliue , And thought that I ( not seeing her ) saw her plaine , Long t●me my Powers were got into my sight , Deluding me with pleasing false Delight . But now that her rare Beautie liues els where , I le waile with teares her Absence , ( my Disgrace ) With weeping I my sight away will weare , Which skornes to looke on any but that Face . Eyes be Recluses , you can weep no more , And ( Hart ) since She is gone , weep bloody gore . Ye Hoarie Hils and Icie waters colde , If what fresh Aprill giues ; sharp Iani●●ere To take away from you himselfe shewes bolde : Yet quickly doth the Sunne with pleasing cheere , Restore to you your Liuerie● greene againe , And flowring Banks longst which you streme a●●ain . But now to me , from whom mine ALBA faire , Still hides her selfe , all Hope is withered quite : Nor will she shew her selfe , to ease my Care , For my yong Plant an enuious frost doth bite , Since that same hart that gentle was of yore , Hardning it selfe gainst me , still swelleth more . Nature ( you ) gouernes , but Loue rules ore mee ; Nature is louing as a Mother kinde , Loue , worse then cruell S●epd●me is to see , And to my losse ( gainst conscience ) doth me binde , Taking from me mine ancient Priuiledge Whereby I liue , my daies for to ab●idge . Then happie Hils you shall be greene againe , And blessed Springs your Courses you shall holde : But if that she reuiue not that hath slaine , I soone shall dye , Conceit is growne so colde , Lest her warme Sunne glide hither it to thaw , My freezing Hart no more his breath shall draw . How long shall I knock at that Iron Gate , Of thy hard Hart , for mercie ? ( but in vaine ? ) How long my Griefes to thy deaffe eares relate , And reape nought els but trauell for my paine ? Yet still I le hope , since Acornes , Okes become , And tynie drops proue Floods that streaming runne . Thy f●ce is faire , yeeld Fauour then to mee ; Thy hart is flesh , not bone , then gently show ; Ah let thy Loue with thy sweet Cheere agree ; And to attonement we shall quickly grow : My Loue which is to thee more then extreame , Requite not with a fortune , ouer meane . If thou shouldst be Vnfaithfull in thy Loue , Where should I flie for succour , or for Truth ? If th'owlt not heare my sute , whom should I moue ? If thou be Cruell , who will then shew Ruth ? If thou ●eceit shalt vse , t will likely be , Others dispence will with deepst subtiltie . More triall then th' hast had thou canst not haue ; ( How oft ) my secret Harts depth wilt thou sound ? Wilt thou my blood spill when thou maist it saue ? When thou maist heale my Grief , still wilt thou wound ? Ah do not ( Surgion like ) Anatomise , Each mu●●le of my griefe in cruell wise , Sick in my lothed Bed I languish fast , Nor can my learned Doctor help me ought , His cunning now is at the latest cast , Yet he no ease to crased me hath brought . And marueile none though he no help can finde , Sick am I not in Bodie , but in minde . My hart each houre doth worse and worser proue , And my Disease encreaseth more and more , Because he wants her sight whom I doe loue : Nor can I haue a salue for this my sore , Lesse so much labour , LOVE for me doth take , As my Phisition , ALBA faire to make . Sick is my soule , my Body languisheth , Th' one's farre f●om health , the other 's nothing nie : So as I doubtfull l●ue , scarce drawing breath , Twixt feare and hope in this extremitie . A strange Consumption hath me wasted l●ng , And for a Pearle restoratiue I long . This for me , then all Phisick is most sure , Or els I doubt I neuer shall be whole : For whilst that Nature would my Bodie cure , Loue pestilenzing ) doth infect my soule . Then ALBA shew now if thou be'st Diuine , Raise Dead to life , for now , or nere t is time . Why should I loue , when I am loathed still ? And praise her still , who seekes me to dispraise ? Why should graue reason yeelde to headstrong will , My Griefes the more to multiplie and raise . I doe commit Idolatrie extreme With her , whom I should rather right blaspheme . Fire if it warme not , for no Fire we deeme , The Sunne , no Sunne we count , except it shine , Water , no water , bu● it wer doe seeme , Vertue , no Vertue , lest it show some signe ; No Woman is she , that s not pitifull , Rather Pri●es Spaune , a nice disdainefull Trull . Haue I transgrest the Boundes of Modestie ? Whispering vndecent speeches in her Eare , Or haue I ( ere ) assailde her Chastitie , And sought the spoyle thereof away to beare ? If I haue ●●●mde my self in such grosse wise , Why then she reason hath me to despise . ●h , no , fat be it from my harmeles Thought , ●uch base vnseemely tricks to her to moue , ● matter small it was ( God knowes ) I sought , Onely to be Receiuer to her Loue . No scandall t' is , t' is no Disparagement , Seruice t'acc●pt , where naught but Honors ment . Faine would I take of quiet sleepe the Say , My wearied Corse with ease for to delight , But I no wished rest can finde by Day , Nor slumber swee●ely in my bed by Night . No rest I wretched man as yet can take , My woes are such , as force me still to wake . My Trueth is measured by my Fortune hard , And ( I poore soule ) Vnfaithfull iudged am , Because I seeme Vnhappie ; and am bard From all good Chance : ( Gainst right ) I beare the blame , But willingly ; ( since she doth will ) I shall , Whose Absence turnes my Hony into Gaule . Yet faine I slumber would , though but a while ; But if I cannot with that Fode be fed , I will embrace ( the time for to beguile ) Such golden Thoughts as are within my head . Golden indeede , Golde Thoughts of s●●h a one , As I prefer fore Golde , though she a Stone . But sleepe , or die , Then , dye , thou canst not sleepe , For thee to sleepe it is impossibell , To thinke what 's past , broade waking will thee keep●● Which thou must still conceale , not any tell . My comfort 's this , that waking as I die , I see my Loue in Thought , though not with eye . Pure Iu●rie , white with spot of Crimson red , Where Beauties First Borne lay the perfect Molde , Or like Aurora rising from her Bed , Such was mine ALBA faire for to beholde . Such was She , when She louely LOVE ore came , The Conquerors Glory , Conquereds Pleasing Shame . But now that Cull●r faire hath changde his grace , Through Burning Feuer , ( deadly in his kinde ) And Sallow Palenes stained hath that Face , To whome the Prize for Fauour was assinde , Sicke is my Lady , sicke is all Delight , And brightest Day is turnde to darkest Night . Fortune hath stolne from ALBA , tooke from LOVE , From him she takes his , Solace , Sport and Play ; From Her her Beautie which she would improue , And to her selfe , would ( falsely ) it conuay . Being Pitifull she Cruell seemes to be , And in her Blindenes sheweth ●hat she can see : False Fortune darke as Mo●●● in any Good , ●ut to doe Hurt , as Argus , full of Eyes , ●n outward shew , a Tiger fierce and wood : ●nd yet to me she 's Kinde in piteous wise . Since She , by drawing Beautie from that place , Quencht hath my Fier , to ease me for a space . My Harte vpon his Deathbed , sicke , did lye , Calling vpon proude ALBA but in vaine ; Too Cruell she , ( for pittie ) it did crie , Yet had Repulse through Rigor of Disdaine . So as to liue thus ( long ) it could not bide , But soone gaue vp the Ghost , and so he dide . Then to the Chappell of bad Fortun● harde , By smoking sighes it quickelie was conuaide , A place for these sad Funerals preparde , Where in a Tombe of Loyaltie t' was laide . Anger , Suspect , Griefe , Sorow , Care , and Feare , With dismall Doubtes , the chiefest Mourners were . About the Hierce , great store of Teares were shed , The Torches that did burne so cleare and bright , Were ALBAS eyes by Crueltie misled , Whilest she triumpht to see so wofull sight . Pittie the Dirge did sing with wofull Pl●●● , Assisted with a blacke and dismall Saunt . Vpon the Monument yplac●d was , Fire , Sworde , and Corde , with Arrowes sharpe & keen●● The Epitaph ( for such as by should pas ) Was thus subscribde , an carued to be seene . Loe here that gentle Hart entombde doth lie , Whom cruell ALBA causeles , forst to die . Poore Soule , in couert ioy , thy Care fauns rest , Weare Willow in thy Hat , Baies in thy Hart , Gold when it bubleth least , then boyles it best , Water runs smoothest in the deepest part . By thy great warines let it be seene , Not what thou now art , but what thou hast beene . The greatest comfort ( as a Louers dew ) Is , of his Mistris Secrets , much to know , Yet no lesse labor for him ( being Trew ) Then naught to say , nor ought thereof to show , Of men we learne to speake , things to reueale , Of Gods , silent to be , and to conceale . Yet sweete's the Beautie of mine ALBA faire : What blabst thou it ? yea blab it willinglie , Bees that doe die with honey , buried are , With dulcet notes , and heauenly Harmonie ; And they that dying , doe Beautie still commend , Shall be with kindenes honored in the end . Then hope thou well , and haue well ( as they say ) Long haue I hopte , but Hoping is in vaine , Hope with Allusions , dallying doth me pay , Yet but for Hope , the Hart would breake in twaine . Ah MELT my Hart , would Melted once thou were , Thou shouldst not then haue cause so much to feare . The Fall of Leafe , the Spring tide of my Loue , Flowring a fresh with Hope I found to bee : But now ( alas ) the Spring time for to proue , Fall of the Leafe of my lost Loue I see . The Carnouale of my sweet LOVE is past , Now comes the Lent of my long Hate at last . LOVE is reuolted , whilst he ( Traytor like ) Against his prince ( gainst me his Soueraigne ) Weapons vniust ( sauns cause ) takes vp to fight , And doth his fealtie and his Homage staine . He is reuolted and mine ALBA's fled , I seeme aliue here , yet in deede am dead . In vaine I wish for what I cannot haue , And seeke with griefe to aggrauate my Mone : What is to me denied , that still I craue , Gaulling my selfe with fond Concei●s alone : Yet I forgiue her , little knoweth she , That she her owne Hart wounds , when she ●ils me . Meane time in vncouth Sorrowes secret Cell , My haples Fortune hard I will disiest , Hating all ioy , I priuat there will dwell , Because I of my wish am dispossest . Like Petrark chaste of Laura coy I plaine , Of whom I ( neuer yet ) could Fauour gaine . How long shall I importune thee with Cries , And presse thee for some Grace ( bard flintie Dame ? ) How long my sute deplore in pitious wise , And yet be frustrate of that I complaine ? Vrge me with ought if so thou canst of Ill , Do but obiect , and answer thee I will . Cite me at LOVES great Audit to appeare , And if a iust account I giue not thee Of all my Life , since Loyall I did sweare Vnto thy Cruell selfe , casheere thou mee : But if I true haue bin and dealt vpright , Thou dost me wrong to set by me so light . More then high time t is for thee to relent , My sorrowes flowes aboue their wonted Bound , And well nie breake my Hart where they art pent , ( For so great Force ) a too too slender ground . Then 〈◊〉 supplant not from my wished rest , But do abiure harsh Rigor from thy brest . Affect me ( not inflict on me ) fresh woe Thy Loue , my seruice merits , not thy Hate , My loyall Hart to thee , didst thou but know , Thou wouldst not thus reuenge , but rew my state : Nor am I ouer bolde in what I craue , Pitie ( not Fauour ) I desire to haue . TAWNY and BLACK , my Courtly Colours be , Tawny , ( because forsooke I am ) I weare : Black , ( since mine ALBAS Loue is dead to me , Yet liueth in another ) I do beare . Then welcome TAWNY , since I am forsaken , And come deare BLACK , since my Loue 's from me taken . The princelike Eagle's neuer smit with Thunder , Nor th' Oliue tree with Lightning blasted showes : No mar●●●l●●hen it is to me , or wonder , Tho●gh my ●oy Dame , in Loue to me hard growes : More deafe to me she is then sensles stock , Her Hart 's obdurate like the hardned rock . But what meane I thus without Reason prate ? I am no more forsaken then I was : My Loue 's no more dead then it was of late ; For yet mine ALBA nere for me did passe : My Loue 's not dead , she neuer me forsoo●● , For ALBA ( nere yet ) me in fauour tooke . As many Fauours haue I as before : For since I her ( first ) lou'd , she me disdainde , And still doth so , still wounding me the more , As in despayre I haue ere since remainde : Yet I in BLACK and TAWNY Weedes will goe , Because Forsooke , and dead I am with woe . LOVES LABOR LOST , I once did see a Play , Ycleped so , so called to my paine , Which I to heare to my small Ioy did stay , Giuing attendance on my froward Dame , My misgiuing minde presaging to me Ill , Yet was I drawne to see it gainst my Will. This Play no Play , but Plague was vnto me , For there I lost the Loue I liked most : And what to others seemde a left to be , I , that ( in earnest ) found vnto my cost . To euery one ( saue me ) t was Comicall , Whilst Tragick like to me it did befall . Each Actor plaid in cunning wise his part , But chiefly Those entrapt in Cupids snare : Yet All was fained , t was not from the hart , They seemde to grieue , but yet they felt no care : T was I ●hat Griefe ( indeed ) did beare in brest , The others did but make a show in Iest. Yet neither faining theirs , nor my meere Truth , Could make her once so much as for to smile : Whilst she ( despite of pitie milde and ruth ) Did sit as skorning of my Woes the while . Thus did she sit to see LOVE lose his LOVE , Like hardned Rock that force nor power can moue . My lifes Catastrophe is at an end , The Staffe whereon my sickly Loue did leane , And which from falling ( still ) did him defend , Is through mischance in sunder broken cleane , Gone is my Mediatrix , my best Aduocate , Who vsde for me to intercessionate . Ah that my Loue cannot aright be waide In Ballance iust , as merits due desart , But must with Hate ( for her Goodwill be paide ) Whereof Th' exchequer is mine ALBAS Hart : The Saphire cut with his owne dust may be , Mine owne pure Faith , in Loue confoundeth me . O be not still vnto me ( thus ) seuere , But rather Simplest milde in sicknes mine : Honey with Gawle , Oyle mix with Vineger , With frownes , blithe smiles , some sweete with sower of thine , Giue me ( to comfort mine ) a Lenatiue , But not t' encrease my Paine , sharpe Corasiue . Canst thou endure that as a Ghost or Sprite , I still should haunt thee with my irksome cryes ? Ah yet at last vnto thy selfe be like , Some pitie shew from out those murthring eyes . If th'owlt not grant my sute , nor louing be , At least , yet in my Griefe , do flatter me . Deare Parler , ( louing lodging vnto me ) Mine only Walke and Garden of Delight , Ah who hath tooke thy Beautie now from thee ? And rest from me what most did please my sight ? Ah if our wonted Sunne do not returne , ( As absent Her ) so , me , ( dead ) shalt thou mourne . My Hart that scarce his fainting breath drawes hard , Demaundeth still his tribute of mine eyes , Needes must I say a too too small reward , Whilst he his Masters sorrowes oremuch tries . ( Poore Hart ) thy Master wrongs thee I confesse , Yet cannot he amend it neere the lesse . I beare my part with thee in this sad mone , In this sad Quire where dolefull Notes I sing : For not to any but to me alone , This Roo●th as vncouth seemes and griefe doth bring , Yet sin●● she here did vse her walke to make , These naked Walls I le honor for her sake . Ah Quondam Temple of my Goddesse faire , Great reason haue I thee for to adore : Thy Boords and Windowes I do holde as rare , Since thou hast entertainde her heretofore , Though Saint be gone , and nought be left but Shrine , Yet for her Loue I le hold thee as Diuine . Shall these same Eyes , but now no Eyes at all , Raine Teares still thus ? and shall this my poore Hart In vaine vpon a flintie Corse still call For mercie , who no Mercie will impart ? Shal this my Tongue now hoarse , with ( Pitie ) crying , Nere finde reliefe , but still a Voice denying ? Ah partiall LOVE ! Ah , World vnmeet for men ! Ah maners fit for sauadge Beasts to loathe ! Ah wicked Fortune thus dost quit me then ! Because thou seest my selfe with Loue I cloathe , Another shall despoyle me and vnbare ? Is this reward for faith vowde to the FAIRE ? Sweet meate sowre sawce deserues , I must confesse , But pure Loue , should nere purchase Hate in right : By Ones Disdaine , which is remedilesse , I liue to like ( vnlou'd ) to worke my spight . Wretched 's that Wight , but faithfull Pat●●ne rare , That doth through Loue , Death to himselfe prepare . Now by these brinish teares that outwardly Distill from weeping eyes , like showers of raine : And by those drops of blood vnseene of eye , Which inwardly from hart streame downe amaine : And by what els I haue ; All which , is Thine , Begin to loue , els end this life of mine . Ah ALBA faire , ah me vnfortunate ! Ah that my Birth 's so low , my Thoughts so his , My due Desires so great , so poore my state , As not to ioy my Right , deseruinglie ! How might I please thee , thee for to possesse ? With how gteat will would I my selfe addresse ? Will Labours patient of Extremities , Obtaine the fauour of thy long sought Loue ? I will attempt , if so thou but deuise , Monsters to tame , and Mountaines to remoue : Alcides like , all things I will subdue , So I may finde thee gracious when I sue . Dost thou ●he passions of deep Loue desire ? The sad despayring moode of perplext minde , The nere exprest through hidden torments ) Fire Of racked Thoughts ? dost couet this to finde ? Mark 〈◊〉 deep sighs , my hollow eyes , salt teares , My broken sleepes , my heauy countnance beares . Wouldst thou I to thy Beautie vowde should be● ▪ And in thy seruice spend my long lifes time ? Remember then my solitarie life for thee , This seuen whole yeares ( a Prentiship of mine ) T is true ( thou knowst ) where ere thou ( now ) remaine , Then be appeasde , and pleasde to ease my paine . Say then faire ALBA , faire , yet full of spight , What haue I done that thou shouldst me vndoe ? Holding thee Deare , why setst 〈◊〉 me so light ? Why silent art thou when to thee I sue ? The more Submissiue I , and Humble am , Why gainst me dost thy selfe still sdainfull frame ? Whom haue I but mine owne Thoughts entertainde , And thy rare Vertues and what companie But Contemplation , hath with me remainde ? And whom haue I still wondred at but thee ? Whom haue I not contemnd for thee , since time I first beheld that matchles shape of thine ? Haue I not crept to some , not trod with feete On them , cause thou to fauour them I saw ? Haue not all Iniuries to me bin sweete ? If thou didst will me beare them , t was a Law , Haue I not spent my golden yeares with I ope ? Seeking nought but thy Loue ( my Wishes scope . ) Yet in the midst of these distempered Thoughts , Thou art not only Ielous of my Truth , But makst account of me , farre worse then Noughts , Nor dost by Message yeeld me any Ruth : My Loue vnspotted , cannot be accepted , My Truth ( O strange ) vnspeakable's , reiected . Like to this Sea , LOVE hath me fashiond right , He full of water , I replete with woe : He boyles and bubleth vp in open sight , I fret and rage where ere I ( wandring ) goe : He flowes , and boue his banks the surges rise , ( From me ) salt teares gush forth in streaming wise . He water wants not , nor my Griefes decrease ; Thousands of quicksands hath he all about , I , thousand cares that on my Hart do sease : His waues are cut in twaine , my Hart , throughout . The whistling reedes about his banks do sound , Sorrow in me is of my song the ground . Both windes and raine vpon him ( daily ) fall , I still , distill salt showres and sighs amaine : By tempests , oft his Channels broke are all , My Bowels cleft be with continuall paine : His bott●me none can well perceiue or see , My Torments without depth sauns sounding bee . Only we differ thus , he still doth bide Here , swallowing them that passe alongst this place , I vade away , and ( Cruell Homicide ) Murther I do my selfe in pitious case . Who then can rid me ( Notamie of Woe ) From these hell plagues ? None , but my Cruell Foe . ALBA I haue not liued ouer long , Yet haue I hollow eyes , and haires halfe gray : My yeares not many , for I am but yong , Though wrinckled be my cheekes and lims decay . But is this Destnie , or i ft pure Deceit ? That hath on me ( thus ) wrought this cunning fea● ? I ft be the first , why then none could preuent My wretched Stars to scape this miserie ? I ft be the latter that such ill me ment , I needes must think it was mine Enemie : It was ( indeed ) , thy selfe it was ( Faire Witch ) That with thy beautie wrought me to be sich . Thou art too Faire ( I see ) for to be true , And too too False for one that is so Faire : Yet for my wrongs thou seemest not to rue , Nor for my Crosses ought at All dost care : And yet my Loue 's more feruent still tow●rds thee , My sparks growne flames , my cinders bonfires bee . Only I grieue my daies are at an end , Fore I can of thee any fauour gaine : And which is worse , I likely am to spend All the Remainder , yet no Grace obtaine . Vnhappie Pilgrim I , borne still to euill , To shrine her for a Saint , who is a Deuill . When Beautie sickneth , then Desire doth die , Fauor doth vade most flouring in his prime , Then LOVE doth ebbe , when flowes Aduersitie , But Friendship bides out euery stormie Time . Ah ALBA I not doted haue on thee , But lou'd thee deare , as deere , as deere might bee . Affection , ( alwaies ) either grounded is On Vertue ; ( and Vertue nere peeuish showe● ) Or else on Beautie ; ( counted chiefest blisse ) And Beautie praisde , ( through Loue ) more fairer growes : I neuer Peruerse was , nor Sullen yet , But praisde thy Beautie to mine vtmost wit . To thee , I , both a Friend and Louer am , Yet euery Louer is no Constant Friend , But who a Friend in Nature is and Name , As Louer true begins , and true doth end : Thy trues● Friend am I , more then another , And vnto thee the faithfulst loyalst Louer . Vertue ( in me ) Affection shall subdue , Wisedome , all Lust , my Friendship sweetest Beautie , I le not be fickle , false , but constant , true , Seruing thee still , with all respect of Dutie ; And when I shall be buried , dead and gone , My Ghost shall ( as thy Slaue ) thee tend vpon . Ah Speake then , shall these Torments I endure , Of Bloody Thoughts , and nere expressed paine Neuer remorse of stubborne thee procure ? And shall they breede ( still ) my eternall bane ? Yet grant me , things impossible to wish , To feede Conceite , since that no hurt it is . Then shalt thou see ( through this I holde so deare ) I le longe my life prolong , and Spiri●s spend , And to my selfe that Creature none may heare , I le softlie call it Loue , till life shall end . And if what I , thus whisper Any vrge , I le name it Honor , so my selfe to purge . May I but this sweete Contemplation holde , I then shall liue of All men most content , Taking more pleasure in my Thoughts though olde , Then ere I did in youthly Actions spent . Grant me this ●race , ( to thee t is matt●r small ) And all my Crosses I le sweete Blessings call . Ah that tho'wldst daigne , this might be christned Loue , That Fauour ( as reward● for it might be , But I doe feare , I shall thee too much moue , This ouer boldenes ( Dearest ) pardon me . And l●t me hope one day some gentle power , May turne to Sweete , this my most bitter Sower . Time was and is , and euer shall be still , That I to honor thee will n●uer spare , But for to call it Loue or Pure Goodwill , I neuer durst , although I seemde to dare , Then suffer me , to follow this my Vaine , Flatte●ing my selfe , although I nothing gaine . None pleased hath mine eyes , but ALBA bright , None but sweete ALBA doth possesse my Ha●t , Mine eares in ALBA , onely take delight , And ●his my Soule , from ALBA nere shall part . To follow th●e , all Fortunes I le forsake , And vnto thee alone , my selfe betake . The God● haue set such difference twixt our slate , That all must be , pure Dewtie , Reuerence ; Nothing I must ter●e LOVE ( such is my Fate , ) Except thou daine , therewith fo● to dispence . And since I know that so th●u dost command , I condescend will to it out of hand . Yet my Vnspotted Thoughts my pining Corse , My D●scontented Life , let them obtaine One blessed Fauour throu●h thy kinde remorse , Though they not merit least part of the same . So I with Ioy shall end my wearie daies , And dying , sound abroad thy nere dying Praise .
The Conclusion of the last Part. IF Vertuous Loue be Honor and no Shame , Let no man ( causeles ) seeke my chaste Desire , To bridle in with base conceited raine , Since Virtue kindled in my brest this fire : The Wise ( I hope ) will no Exceptions take , Nor Gainst my Loue , nor gainst these Toyes I make , For by the Diall of Discretion sound , Mine Actions all ●nd Cariage I direct , And fearefull am I , least I should be found , T' haue done amisse , in any due respect . ( LADIE ) I hope no liue is here set downe , Sauns awfull looking backe vnto your frowne . No Worthlesse Thought doth lodge within my brest , Since ( as my Guides ) I follow thy faire Eyes , Sparkes of true Vertue in me now d●e rest , Infused by those beames in wondrous wise , Those with an vncouth Flame set me on fire , The rightest pathes of HONOR to aspire . By these conducted to Eternall Ioy , I hope fo● to be lifted vp to 'th Skie , From all Disgrace , from trouble and annoy , Where , ( of my selfe ) I nere d●●●mount so hie . Be gracious then ( Sweete Goddesse ) of my Thought , For thy power t is , doth make me soare aloft . Il Disgratiato . R. T. G.

CERTAINE DIVINE POEMS , WRITTEN BY THE foresaid Author R.T. Gentleman .

●mprinted at London by F. K. for Matthew Lownes .

Deo , Optimo , Maximo . WIth Teares in Eyes , with drops of Blood from Hart , With skalding sighs from inward grieued Soule , A CONVERTITE , from Vaine LOVE now I part , Whilst , for my Sinnes , fore Heauen I do condole . I know , and knowledge I haue liued wrong , And wilfull sought mine owne Destruction long . The Temple of my Heauenly GOD I haue , For earthly Goddesse , stainde blasphemously , Selling my selfe to Satan for his Slaue , Whilst I transgrest in vile Apostasie . Banisht my selfe I haue from Paradize , Through thriftles Toyes of base-borne Vanities . O thou that on swift Cherubins dost ride , Creator of all Creatures that do liue , Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide , Though he thee hated , skorned , and did grieue : Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state , And me once more from sinne regenerate . Ah looke vpon me with milde Mercies eye , Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace : Remember not how I haue gone awry , Since I renounce to runne more such a Race . Ah glorious Spouse , thy Beautie I desire , For now to He●uen , not Earth , my Thoughts aspire . Griefe , that was once farre off remou'd from me , Begins ( as now ) for to approach me nere , Clad in his Weedes , which Black and fearf●ll be , And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare , With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth , And mournes , that I haue straide so wide from Truth . Reason the Cochman to my wandring Thought , As in a Christall glasse , doth shew most plaine My gazing eyes , how I haue fondly wrought , Spending my Time in Toyes , and Fancies vaine , He shew'th me now another Nouell LOVE , Another path , wherein my feete to moue . As One , who in his Trauaile doth espie , ( By chance ) a hideous Serpent or foule Snake , That long before vnseene did closely lie Behinde some stub , where he his Nest did make , ( Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace ) Quickly himselfe retireth from that place : So I by louing wrong ( vnhappie Wight ) Hauing amisse straide long time , and awrie , When I ( at last ) of Death had but a sight , ( Although farre off ) yet backward , gan I hie : Backward I came , with hastie speedie foote , Leauing that Course , which I at first had tooke . Thou w●ndring Spirit , to whom Ioue doth commit ( Of this my Body fraile ) the gouernment : Why , gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit ? Why , are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent ? Why , dost not marke what Danger is at hand ? What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand ? Ah , be not flattred with this poysenous LOVE , But call thy former Wits to thee againe : Those wicked Thoughts roote out , and hence remoue , Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine , What Mortall is , by mortall Death suppresse , Thy Gaine shall be the more , thy Losse the lesse . Heauen once thy Mansion was , and dwelling place , Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray , Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case , So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay : Thou woundst thy selfe , to God a Rebbell th' art , And only striu'st to please the World in Hart. Alas , in whom now dost thou put thy trust ? On whom dost thou relie , or hope on now ? Ah turne , and ( still ) liue shalt thou with the Iust , Ah turne againe , and trebble blessed thou : Thou , then shalt be , whereas the Blessed are , Pure Soule ▪ mongst Soules ▪ mongst Stars , a brightsome Starre . What 's God ? The Sourse of Goodnes and the Sprin● ▪ What is that Goodnes ? Such a Goodnes sound As aye increaseth without perishing . How is it made ? In frame and fashion Round , Like to a Forme that in it doth containe , His End and his Beginning in the same . This Goodnes , ( first ) from whence did it proceede ▪ Three proper Veines there be , that forth do runne Out of one sacred Sea , from Heauen decreede , Which co●passe doth , All , what so ere sees Sunne . Cannot we see it ? This ESSENCE most Diuine . No Mortall Man hath seene at any time . How can it then be , if it neere be seene , That i● our mindes ( oft lifteth vp on High , As if ( in Vision we in Heauen had beene ? It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye , With , Faith● cleere eye which shines to vs so bright , As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light . What is that Faith ? A Gift , which if Defect In him , that firme beleeueth , be not found , It blindfold leades him ( yet with steps direct ) Vnto that place , where perfect Ioyes abound , Where God , the Father , Sonne , and Holy Ghost , Doe raigne in Glorie great , of Mightiest most . Thou LIFE which Life art calde , and yet art Death , Thou DEATH , which Death art termde , and yet art Life , Say ; which of you maintaine my v●tall breath , Within thi● wretched Vale of Worldly strife ? Say , which prolongs my Life , most of you Twaine ? Or thou LIFE , or thou DEATH : say both the same . I ( more then LIFE ) straight DEATH doth answer make . Nay , I ( quoth LIFE ) farre more then DEATH , to me , And for this Cause this only Name I take Of LIFE , which by my meanes alone can be . Because whilst I within thy Body liue , Death no way can thee hinder , hurt , or grieue . But I , by cutting off DEATH straight replies ) This slender Thred , whereby Men runne their race , Bring euery Faithfull soule , in friendly wise , Where he a better path ( for aye ) may trace , Making him leade a Life eternallie , A LIFE , that ( still ) doth liue , and neuer die . Wherefore , what ere he be , that meanes to ioy This other LIFE that is Celestiall , He mu●● not scorne ( to scape from worlds annoy ) Nor thinke it much , to come when DEATH shall call . For DEATH no● LIFE , doth help vs at the end , LIFE is our Foe , but DEATH , our dearest Friend . All fraile , most happie Day in blessed wise , A Day of Griefe , yet Honorable Day , In which the Father did ( for Sacrifise ) Offer his Sonne , to saue Man from decay : Clensing our Soules , defilde with sinfull mind , With Innocent , with pure and pretious Blood . Vpon that Crosse ( now sacred ) then Prophane , He ●ide for vs , who could not dye indeede : Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine , He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede : Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost , Which nothing , Vs , but Him , too dearly cost . Not his , but our Due , was it , for to Die ; Those Torments which he meekly did endure , His Crowne of Thornes , his Wounds done spitefully ; That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure ▪ All these , to Vs , and not to him , did long , Yet for our sakes , our Christ himselfe did wrong . Then if for pitie , Graues do open wide , Hils cleaue , and Marble pillars rent in twaine : If Heauens themselues , their Lights for griefe do hide , And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine : What Mortall hart is there that doth not breake , When he but thinks , or of this Day doth speake ? That Vertue , through whose power rulde is my soule ; ( Only through Vertuous Loue , from Loue set free ) Takes force afresh as one that would controule : And finding strong himselfe within to bee , Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now , And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow . New Lords , new Lawes ; New Customes breake the Olde , And where before a dark and mistie clowde , My minde as in a prison did infolde , Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde , My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire , And by their Eye know both what to require . My watchfull Soule recouered hath well nie , The former state in which he liued in : And being free , doth call to memorie , What ( bound ) he did forget through wretched sin , Whil●● for his life repentant he attends , Immortally to liue for his amends . Not any part there is of Bodie mine , But filled is with true , not false Delight : Yet doth it grieue still at her former Crime , And with Remorse doth mortifie the Spright , Whilst wronged Soule , on Others layes the blame , Yet reprehends her selfe euen for the same . This earthly Beautie doth the Sence delight , But Heauenly Beautie doth ●he minde mo●e please : The one the World hath as an Obiect right , And seekes the World to pleasure with sweet ease : But th' other hath ●ehouah for hir glasse , Nor she for any but for him doth passe . The Sence doth burne with ●oues vnperfect works . Which like a blaz● in th' aire doth flit away : The Soule thirsts after that which neuer hurts , And hunts for that which neuer will decay : That , which not subiect is to any time , But of it selfe most Perfect and Diuine . Thou ( Lord ) the Mortall and Immortall both Created hast , marke humbly I require , How much within my bodie they be wroth ; Marke how within me , gainst me they conspire Within themselues they vary so and grudge , That which of both shall win us hard to iudge . My bad Conceits from Adam sprung of yore , Doo headlong runne to endles death with shame : And lesse that Reason do th●m bridle sore , Hardly my Soule can ●asse from whence it came . Then pardon Lord the Course that I haue runne , And I from Sinne a new Man will become . A Tirant great , faire Beautie is in Loue , When it doth triumph in a louely face : And who with cold Disdaine , this doth not moue , Is caught by subtill sweet alluring Grace : Who stands at Beauties Gaze , and doth not flie , Is soone entrapt by wilfull glan●ing eye . This which of true Loue is but Picture bare , With shadowing Vale doth dimme our cleerest sight : And if to follow it we do not spare , It soone deceiues vs with a false delight , And to perpetuall prison sends our soule , Vnles her sleights by Reason we controule . Faire Pearle , fine gold , base ex●rements of th' earth ; What 's Beautie but a little White and Red ? Reuiued with a little liuely Breath , With Winde , or Sunne , or Sicknes altered ? All this ●oth Time consume and bring to nought , And all what ere into this world is brought . The fairest Colours drie and vanish shall ; The yongst must pack as well as doth the Olde : All mortall things to mortall death must fall , And therefore first were cast in earthly molde . That which doth ●●orish greene as grasse to day , Tomorow withereth like to dried Hay . Swift flies our yeares as doth a running streame , And lothed Age comes stealing on apace : Our youth doth passe away as t were a Dreame , And Death doth follow for to take his place : Death comes , and our Lifes patent to his hand For to resigne , he straight doth vs command . Strength to his course , and winde vnto his flight , With feathers to his wings , Time ioyneth fast : And this sweet life which we so much do like , Though nere so loth , yet must away at last . The fairest Flower must wither with the weede , What so doth liue , to die was first decreede . Thrise happie man and trebble blest is he , That neuer treads his steps from rightest way , Nor with the mist of World will blinded be : But keepes right path , and neuer goes astray : Contemning all these mundaine Treasur● base , In hope to ioy the heauenly Wealth of Grace . Who dyeth ill , dyes ; who dieth well , neuer dies , But liues a life aboue Eternallie : Like good ●l●as , who in wondrous wise , Was from base Earth tooke vp to liue in skie : Where bide Th' elect of Christ for euer blest , In Abrahams bosome there for aye to rest . For thee my HART doth burne like fire ( Deare Lord ) Which freesde before like Frost and chillie Ice , For thee to leaue my sinne I doe accord ; Through which thy heauenly grace I did despise . All Follies now , as Shadowes vaine I le leaue , And vnto thee ( the Substance trew ) I cleaue . In thee I burne , and in my selfe I freese , Frozen through feare , but burning through thy Loue . Reason ore Senses mine , now ouersees : And her Authoritie ore them doth proue . Which makes me humbly call to thee for grace , Though ( proud ) before I runne a selfe wild race . Repentance right , sad Griefe , salt Teares , sure Faith , Renue in me a sorie Contrite Hart : My guiltie Conscience oft within me saith , I Death deserue , yet Mercifull thou art : Sighs from ●y soule I offer for my Fee , As pretious Blood thou offredst once for mee . My Hart now clensde ( and yet not mine as now ) ●weet Christ to thee his first Home turnes againe , ●rom me he flies , and vnto thee doth bow : ● giue it thee , Accept I pray the same . Ah Soueraigne Sauiour , do not now despise A broken Hart , for pleasing Sacrifise . Weake is my Barke in which my Life doth rowe , My wretched life , through grieuous faults mispent , And in the World ( his Ocean ) sayles but slowe , Because it falles into the Occident : My sickly Minde runnes selfe same doubtfull way , And Soule doth grieue that Fancie ●o doth stray . And though a gentle calmie Winde to blowe , She findes about her , as she fresh do●h sayle , Yet vnder Waters doe I spie belowe , The Foe of my poore Soule her to assayle : And in that part wherein he doth espie The Ship to leake , in that he close doth lie . Ah , now it grieues me , now I doe repent My re●chlesse Race , that I so Iewde haue runne , Yet hath my God in mercie to me sent Helpe to my Vessell weake , else I vndon● : Hope at the left hand standes , that part ●o guide , And constant Faith on right hand doth abide . Earth was my flesh before , and earth againe Ere long it shall be , but my Soule on hie , Shall be lift vp in brightest Heauens ●o raigne , If I from false alluring Sinne can flie : When at his feete , who first life to me gaue , A Glorious Seat for euer I shall haue . Full 7. times foure of yeeres my life hath runne , Whil'st to my selfe a heauy B●rthen sore , To others I a gainelesse charge become , Soyled with beastly Thoughts vncleanly gore : Whil'st in true Light being blind I farther goe From Reasons path which Iudgement did me show . Slow to good works , but too too swift to ill , My Soule abroad with flitting wings doth flie , And in the worlds darke bottom of Selfe will , Mongst 1000. Snares she carelesly doth lie . Where sensual Sense and Ignorance astray Her doubtfull leades , quight out of her right way . Too obstinate she headlong forward runnes , In greatest Light she tumbleth in most darke , Nor takes she thought what of her selfe becomes , Be it right or wrong her course she doth not marke : So that although Immortall she should liue , Most mortall Death she seekes her selfe to giue . But now thanks to the Soueraigne King of all , She ( no more blinde ) the dangers gins to spie , And looking backe vnto her former fall , She doth repent through faith most heartily : Where she doth see of Heauen the narrow Gate , Which ( once ) was shut , now ope for her escape . King of all Kinges which from thy sacred Throne , Doest ma●ke and view from forth the Heauens hie , Thy Graces vnto Adams Ofspring showne , Of thy great Loue ( although vnworthilie ) Thou that do'st fill with true Delight the minde , With true Delight , wherein true Ioy we finde . Behold how I , ore laid with grieuous sinne , With Soule defil'd , with Heart infected sore , Doe flie to thee , thy Mercie for to winne , And with Repentance doe my faultes deplore : Lord if thy Lawes and thee I haue offended , Let mine old Follies , with new Teares be cleansed . My Sorrowes , to my Sinnes are sparkes but small , So loathsome they appeare vnto my sight ; On thee , I at thy Gate of Pittie call , Thou art the Flame that canst them purge most brigh● . The Bellowes is Amendements pure desire , Which doth inflame through thy hotte louing Fir● Let thy great Bountie me forget , forgiue , And bad Conceites that idle Fancies wrought , Let them no more within me ( working ) liue , But to Confusion and Contempt be brought : Oh let not Sinne my Soule still Satanise , But with thy Spirit the same imparadise .
A most excellent patheticall , and passionate Letter of Duke D'Epernoun , MINION , vnto Henry the third , King of France and Polonia , when , through the Duke of Guizes deuise and meanes , he was forbidden the presenc● of the King .

MY gracious Soueraigne , a great combate had I in my minde , and no little or small adoe , to resolue my selfe what way to take , hauing receiued expresse commandement not to approach the royall presence of your sacred Maiestie any more ; a matter of no small consequence ( as that was vnto me ) and such as was hard for me to beleeue , and therefore not vnlikelie to be but of long resolution . Willing I was ( my good Lord ) to obey your letter , and so did I ; but yet , ( for to make manifest the cause of so suddaine an alteration ) I did greatly desire to remoue from my heart , whatsoeuer might haue displeased your Grace in any of my actions whatsoeuer : yet could I finde none , being thoroughly determined , and wonderouslie desirous to answer the same with my life , and bid you farewell with a liuely and open voyce , before the face of all the world .

I most humbly beseech your Maiestie to pardon this my Disobedience , seeing I haue not committed this fault ( onely ) for feare of disobeying you , but rather , because I am pricked forward by the great affection I owe vnto your seruice , more than all the men in the world . I see ( Sir ) I am the onely marke whereat the Enuie and Slaunder of France doe drawe their most fierce Dartes of their Rigor and Force ; I must needes vndertake ●o resist , no lesse those , who are Enuyers of my good Fortune , then heretofore I haue done the Admirers thereof ; not doubting , but that God will giue me the Grace , not onely to repulse them , but also to beat them downe wi●h the onely Sun-shining Beame of your royall Fauour , which ( alone ) shal suffice without any more need of other Armour ; being as strong vnto me , as the foundation of a Rocke , which no Accidents whatsoeuer shall euer be able to vndermine . For I do not place in the ranck of transitory thinges , the Friendship wherewith your Maiestie with so great affection so long time hath honoured me : It hath continued without ceasing with so great Good-will , and sustayned so many sharpe assaultes , that I feare nothing at all that it should perish in one small moment and on the sodaine . Hap-hazard did not build it , Fortune therefore shall not ouerthrow it , and the workes of your Maiesties bountie , shall neuer ( I hope ) yeelde vnto the malice of the Enemies of my Good .

Neither will I haue any other proofe of the Eternitie of your rare Fauours towards mee , then the answere you made vnto one of the Neerest about your Maiestie , who affirming you would make me too GREAT ; you answered ; And so Great will I make him , that it shal not be in my power hereafter to vndoe him , although willingly I would . These are the wordes ( worthie Prince ) wherewith you haue pricked forwardes the violence of my malicious ill willers ; Wordes in trueth , most worthie the greatest , noblest and most bountifull Monarch of the worlde . In so much as I haue engrauen in my soule an immortall desire to make my selfe worthie the effectes thereof .

But I must not nowe beholde , nor at this time looke into , what parte your Good-will hath shewed it selfe most firme and most affectionate , to make famous my good Fortune . The principall beginning there●● was resolued vpon with iudgement , the sequell with reason , and the end shall not be variable with ill destinie . The proceedinges thereof were voluntary ; your Maiestie wil not suffer ( I trust , ) that the chaunce thereof should be forced , you haue raised me out of the dust , vnto the greatest honours of your high Estate , and of an vnworthie younger brother that I was , you haue created me a great Duke . I am of your owne fashioning ; I hope you will not suffer your worke to be vnperfect : and for to lift me vp vnto the heauens of your greatnes , you will not giue me winges of so soft a wax that I shall melt in the violent lightninges of the rage of mine enemies , to make me miserablie to sincke into the bottomlesse flouds of their bloody desires . But rather contrariwise , that it would please you to protect me , and to take a certaine kinde of pleasure and pride , to see , and beholde that the power you haue giuen mee may bee sufficient to ouerthrow these Infidels and base Creatures , their 〈◊〉 estate being full of discommodities , and t●eir diuelish determinations guiltie of horrible treasons .

But if your Maiestie desire to see the rest and quietnesse of your poore People , imagining that I am the cause of their pouertie and neede , and not the quarrels and conflicts that these Iewde fellowes haue attempted ; if my prosperitie causeth the trouble of your pleasures , and if you thinke , that ceasing the pretexte of your vnfained Good-will towardes mee , by the same meanes they woulde cease their euill behauiours also ; let vs then ( Sir ) ouerthrow this good Fortune , let vs remoue that which serues for a colour to the enterprises that these turbulent Companions goe about , to put themselues into possession of your Estate ; let vs ouerthrowe the meanes , which they call the Motiues and occasions of their Factions ; yet in the ende it shall plainly be seene , that aspiring Ambition & cankred Enuie of these malcontented mindes , is the onely cynders which couers the fire , wherewith they would imbrace your Realm , and the breake necke ouerthrow , into which they couet to thrust your people , to accompany them vnto their endles miseries . But Soueraigne Liege , I doe not hold the liberalitie your royall Person hath bestowed on mee , so deare , as I doe the least of your desires , my obedience shall franckly yeeld to you , all that , which your princely Liberalitie hath bountifully giuen vnto me ; whether it be to take away the colour of the warres ensuing , or to make it good , ( in good-earnest ) vpon them which beare a shewe to desire it : The losse of my Goodes , shall be the least of my Crosses : I haue alwayes considered , that Fortune giueth no●hing , but what she can alwayes take againe , and that all worldly riches are of the variable condition of the world , and of the vncertaintie of mankinde . Your Maiestie which gaue mee all whatsoeuer I haue , cannot take any thing , but what was your owne ( before ) from me ; and willingly if you please will I yeeld vp all I haue without enforcing mine owne will at all : I will more easily discharge my selfe of my Goods , then they may bee taken from mee . I will resigne not only the Estates , the Honors , the Offices , and Possessions , whether they be of mine owne Person , or belonging vnto my deare Wife , but also my life into your princely Handes , I say , that happie and contented life , which I owe vnto your liberall integritie ; doe mee I most humbly beseech you , so great a good as to receiue it : Leaue me onely I desire so little as 10000. franckes of yeerely rent , ( mine owne poore patrimonie ) it shall be enough , that I may maintaine my selfe in your royall Court with the small trayne I had before you knewe mee . I shall haue sufficient , being in your presence , and your onely sight shall bee more vnto mee , then all the treasures of the earth . I will leaue without any griefe at all , vnto your Maiestie the Liuings you haue bestowed on me , without making any other request in this respect , but onely to beseech you most humbly not to suffer that mine enemies , namely those who haue plaied mee no small bad prankes about you , should be put in possession and inuested with my spoyles ; neither to suffer them to finde their happines through the losse of mine owne good Fortune , n●r that they may haue cause to erect them glorious Trophees of mine vndeserued ouerthrow : for that ( only ) and only that alone , would be the greatest aduersitie , that losse of wealth or goods might bring vnto me .

See then my ( gracious Lord ) the account I make of riches . But of your gracious Fauours I haue in such ample wise promised my selfe the eternitie thereof , and haue taken such a HABIT in the possession of the same , that this Custome is turned into a natural Order . I cannot draw breath , but with them , & my life hath no mouing but their influence , that day wherein they shall bee taken from mee , shall be the last of my life and the separation of them , cannot bee without the parting of my soule out of this body : which notwithstanding I will holde for very fortunate , to haue so honorable a subiect , and will not a little glorie to haue so long and well liued : that I haue been thought worthie the friendship of so great and mightie a Monarch , who hath so much esteemed thereof , as not to haue been able to liue without it .

One of the most apparant signes that your Royall selfe gaue me of your rare Affection towards me is , in that you haue alwaies desired to haue had me neere about you . Then I most humbly beseech your Maiestie , let me not ( now ) be banisht far from you ; Banish rather my Fortune than my Person , they rather gape at it , than at my selfe ; It is not at the youngest Sonne of VALETTA , that these spitefull Oppressors doe seek● to take holde of , but it is on the Duke D'Epernoun , and to his Princely greatnes : they are rather enemies of the Effects ▪ than of the Cause , and desire rather the possessions ▪ than the absence of the Possessor Suffer not then ( deare Soueraigne ) this his forced withdrawing , whom you haue so greatly loued , and change not your royall countenance from him at this time , will ill fortune .

Notwithstanding ( most gracious Prince ) if of my being far off , dependes the rest and quietnes of your poore people , and the execution of your Maiesties worthie will and pleasure , I will not gainesay it at all : rather would I bee as low vnder the earth , as you haue raised mee on high in dignitie . Your commaundements herein , as in all other things , shall bee my Counseller● : you will shall be a law vnto me , and your desires my affections . It is more reason that I should perish , then your Wil & Heasts be vnaccomplished , seeing I was not raised vp , but by those meane● .

I praise God , for that he h●th left me one comfort in this my luckles desaster : that is , to know my ill hap ▪ and not my fault , my hard fortune , and not my King , my Enuious and not my iust Enemies doe seeke this my fall . My iust behauiour hath not any way caused it , and therefore it will not leaue mee any place of repentance , for my soule is free from all scruple and doubt , and my vpright intentions of all offences towards your Maiestie . Besides this , I haue placed the friendship wherewith it hath pleased you to honour me , in a perfect heart , not tainted at all . I call thereof to witnes , the Diuinitie of your excellent Spirit , which neuer deceiueth it selfe in the knowledge of his owne . Amongst which in despight of the rage of his enemies ( who are almost in despaire ) I will appeare in loyall sincerenesse of zeale , and in dutifull obedience as the Sunne amidst the Starres , and I will make it to be seene , that the ielousie of my pestilent Slaunderers , is a meere iniurie of time , and my life a spl●ndant light of your Kingdome . Neyther call I to minde these matters , for that I feare you suspect mee of horrible ingratitude or beastly forgetfulnes The ●are manner wherewith you haue bound mee vnto you , was such as coulde not come from a rude Scythian , but from a most magnanimious King , who hath restored a wofull heart cruelly wounded , to happie life , being therefore obliged vnto his princely Throne for euer . So that my Actions hereafter , and not my wordes at this present time shall answere for my continuall loyaltie . I will euermore haue in memorie the liberalitie of my Prince , as a passing pleasing witnesse of the honorable affection hee hath borne me , and will repute that day accursed , wherein I shall not thinke of the happinesse he hath done vnto me ; being not able as now to doe him any other duetie .

Then ( my sweete Soueraigne ) honour me I beseech you alwayes with your Commaundements ; it shall be a kinde of comfort vnto mee , to bee euer employed in your Princely Seruice . Adiew , my good Lord , adiew : the greatest good I possesse in this life , is , the happie thought of your gracious Fauour . I beseech you , still to preserue me therein , and to beleeue that neuer soule seperated it selfe from a goodly bodie , with greater griefe then E ' Pernoun now hath , in being deuided from your Maiesty : and not ● little do I complaine , for that Fortune hath no other meanes to beat mee downe , then in depriuing mee of your noble presence , in such sort as it hath done .

But since it hath pleased God and your Maiestie , I shoulde withdrawe my selfe from you , I beseech his goodnesse , that there may remaine with you as great ioy , as in parting from you , I carry away both heauinesse and anger ; that it may please his holy spirit to conduct and fauour you in such sort in your enterprises , that your Good may be as fairhfully sustained , as I would desire to see manifested the Fauorers of the troubles of your Realme , and the iust punishment due vnto them , for their rash Wilfulnesse , and ouer presumptuous Boldnesse , to the glorie of God , the encrease of your Maiesties Royaltie , the ●ealth of your People , & the contentment of your magnanimous and Princely Desires .

Your no lesse duetifull , then sorrowfull Subiect , for that he must loose the sweete sight of your Princely Maiestie . Iean Louis de Nogaret Duke D'Epernoun , FINIS .