Delia and Rosamond augmented Cleopatra by Samuel Daniel. Delia Daniel, Samuel, 1562-1619. 1594 Approx. 196 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 100 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A19816 STC 6243.4 ESTC S105172 99840902 99840902 5446 2240863040

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A19816) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5446) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 283:11) Delia and Rosamond augmented Cleopatra by Samuel Daniel. Delia Daniel, Samuel, 1562-1619. [196] p. [By James Roberts and Edward Allde] for Simon Waterson, and are to be sold in Paules Church-yarde at the signe of the Crowne, 1594. Printed at London : [1594] An expanded edition of "Delia". In verse. Printers' names from colophon. Signatures: A² B-N. "The complaynt of Rosamond" and "The tragedie of Cleopatra" have separate divisional title pages, the second dated; register is continuous. Identified as STC 6254 on UMI microfilm. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. A19816_00 Delia Daniel, Samuel Martin Mueller 1594 tragedy shc yes A19816 S105172 (STC 6243.4). 94 17110 0 0 0 2 0 0 1.21 B The rate of 2.35 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. eng Cleopatra, -- Queen of Egypt, d. 30 B.C. -- Drama. 2002-01 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-04 Sampled and proofread 2002-04 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-05 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

DELIA and ROSAMOND augmented .

CLEOPATRA

By Samuel Daniel .

AEtas prima canat veneres postrema tumultus .

1594.

Printed at London for Simon Waterson ; and are to be sold in Paules Church-yarde at the signe of the Crowne .

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE , THE LADY MARY , Countesse of Pembrooke . WOnder of these , glory of other times , O thou whom Enuy eu'n is forst t'admyre : Great Patroness of these my humble Rymes , Which thou from out thy greatnes doost inspire : Sith onely thou hast deign'd to rayse them higher , Vouchsafe now to accept them as thine owne , Begotten by thy hand , and my desire , Wherein my Zeale , and thy great might is showne . And seeing this vnto the world is knowne , O leaue not , still to grace thy worke in mee : Let not the quickning seede be ouer-throwne , Of that which may be borne to honour thee . Whereof , the trauaile I may challenge mine , But yet the glory , ( Madam ) must be thine .
Gentle Reader correct these faultes escaped in the printing . SOnnet 18. lyne 3. for error , reade terror . G. 1. page 2. for Condemning , read Conducting . In L. page 16. Marke the Speaker , and read thus , The iustice of the heauens reuenging thus , Doth onely satisfie it selfe , not vs. In the last Chorus , for care , reade cure .
TO DELIA . SONNET . I. VNto the boundles Ocean of thy beautie , Runs this poore riuer , charg'd with streams of zeale , Returning thee the trybute of my duty , Which here my loue , my youth , my plaints reueale . Heere I vnclaspe the booke of my charg'd soule , Where I haue cast th' accounts of all my care : Heere haue I summ'd my sighes ; here I enrole How they were spent for thee ; looke what they are . Looke on the deere expences of my youth , And see how iust I reckon with thine eyes : Examine well thy beauty with my truth , And crosse my cares ere greater summes arise . Read it ( sweet maid , ) though it be doone but slightly , Who can shew all his loue , doth loue but lightly . SONNET . II. GOE wayling verse , the Infants of my loue , Minerua-lyke , brought foorth without a mother : Present the Image of the cares I proue , Witnes your Fathers griefe exceedes all other . Sigh out a story of her cruell deedes , With inter-rupted accents of dispaire : A monument that whosoeuer reedes , May iustly praise , and blame my louelesse Fayre . Say her disdaine hath dryed vp my blood , And starued you , in succours still denying : Presse to her eyes , importune me some good , Waken her sleeping pitty with your crying , Knock at her hard hart , beg till you haue mou'd her , And tell th' vnkind , how decrely I haue lou'd her . SONNET . III. IF so it hap , this of-spring of my care , These fatall Antheames , sad and mournful songs : Come to their view , who like afflicted are ; Ah let them sigh theyr owne , and mone my wrongs . But vntoucht hatts , with vnaffected eye , Approch not to behold so great distresse : Cleer-sighted you , soone note what is awry , Whilst blinded ones mine errours neuer gesse . You blinded soules whom youth and errors leade , You out-cast Eaglets , dazeled with your sunne : Ah you , and none but you my sorrowes reade , You best can iudge the wrongs that she hath done . That she hath done , the motiue of my paine , Who whilst I louē , doth kill me with disdaine . SONNET . IIII. THese plaintiue verse , the Posts of my desire , Which haste for succour to her slow regard : Beare not report of any slender fire , Forging a griefe to winne a fames reward . Nor are my passions lymnd for outward hewe , For that no colours can depaint my sorrows : DELIA her selfe , and all the world may view Best in my face , where cares hath till'd deep furrows . No Bayes I seeke to deck my mourning brow , O cleer-eyde Rector of the holy Hill : My humble accents beare the Oliue bough , Of intercession to a Tyrants will. These lines I vse , t'vnburthen mine owne hart ; My loue affects no fame , nor steemes of Art. SONNET . V. WHilst youth and error led my wandring minde , And sette my thoughts in heedles waies to range : All vnawares , a Goddesse chaste I finde , ( Diana-like ) to worke my suddaine change . For her no sooner had mine eye bewraid , But with disdaine to see mee in that place : With fairest hand , the sweet vnkindest maid , Casts water-cold disdaine vpon my face . Which turn'd my sport into a Harts despaire , Which still is chac'd , while I haue any breath , By mine owne thoughts ; sette on mee by my faire : My thoughts ( like hounds ) pursue me to my death . Those that I fostred of mine owne accord , Are made by her to murder thus theyr Lord. SONNET . VI. FAyre is my loue , and cruell as sh 'is fayre ; Her brow shades frowns , althogh her eyes are sunny ; Her smyles are lightning , though her pride dispaire ; And her disdaines are gall , her fauours hunny . A modest mayde , deckt with a blush of honour , Whose feet do tread greene pathes of youth & loue , The wonder of all eyes that looke vpon her : Sacred on earth , design'd a Saint aboue . Chastity and Beauty , which were deadly foes , Liue reconciled friends within her brow : And had she pitty to conioyne with those , Then who had heard the plaints I vtter now . O had shee not beene fayre , and thus vnkind , My Muse had slept , & none had knowne my minde . SONNET . UII . O Had shee not beene faire and thus vnkind , Then had no finger pointed at my lightnes : The world had neuer knowne what I doe finde , And clowdes obscure had shaded stil her brightnes . Then had no Censors eye these lynes suruaide , Nor grauer browes haue iudg'd my Muse so vaine ; No sunne my blush and errour had bewraid , Nor yet the world had heard of such disdaine . Then had I walkt with bold erected face , No downe-cast looke had signified my misse : But my degraded hopes , with such disgrace Did force me grone out griefes , and vtter this . For being full , should I not then haue spoken , My sence oppress'd , had faild , and hart had broken . SONNET . VIII . THou poore hart sacrifiz'd vnto the fairest , Hast sent the incens of thy sighes to heauen : And still against her frownes fresh vowes repayrest , And made thy passions with her beauty euen . And you mine eyes , the agents of my hart , Told the dumbe message of my hidden griefe : And oft with carefull turnes , with silent Arte , Did treat the cruell Fayre to yeeld reliefe . And you my verse , the Aduocates of loue , Haue followed hard the processe of my case : And vrg'd that tytle which doth plainly proue , My faith should win , if iustice might haue place . Yet though I see , that nought we doe can moue her , T is not disdaine must make me cease to loue her . SONNET . IX . IF thys be loue , to draw a weary breath , Paint on floods , till the shore cry to th' ayre : With downward lookes , still reading on the earth ; The sad memorials of my loues despayre . If this be loue , to warre against my soule , Lye downe to waile , rise vp to sigh and grieue , The neuer-resting stone of care to roule , Still to cōplaine my griefes , whilst none relieue . If this be loue , to cloathe me with darke thoughts , Haunting vntroden pathes to waile apart ; My pleasures horror , Musique tragick notes , Teares in mine eyes , and sorrow at my hart . If thys be loue , to liue a liuing death , O then loue I , and draw this weary breath . SONNET . X. O Then loue I , and draw this weary breath , For her the cruell Fayre , within whose brow , I written finde the sentence of my death , In vnkind letters ; wrought she cares not how . O thou that rul'st the confines of the night , Laughter-louing goddesse , worldly plesures Queen , Intencrat that hart that sets so light , The truest loue that euer yet was seene . And cause her leaue to tryumph in this wise , Vpon the prostrate spoyle of that poore hart : That serues a Trophey to her conquering eyes , And must theyr glory to the world impart . Once let her know , sh' hath done enough to proue me , And let her pitty if she cannot loue me . SONNET . XI . TEares , vowes and prayers , winne the hardest hart ; Teares , vowes and prayers , haue I spent in vaine ; Teares cannot soften Flint , nor vowes conuart , Prayers preuaile not with a quaint disdaine . I lose my teares , where I haue lost my loue , I vowe my faith , where faith is not regarded , I pray in vaine , a merciles to moue : So rare a faith ought better be rewarded ; Yet though I cannot win her will with teares , Though my soules I doll scorneth all my vowes ; Though all my prayers be to so deafe eares , No sauour though the cruell faire allowes , Yet will I weepe , vowe , pray to cruell shee : Flint , frost , disdaine , weares , melts , and yeelds we see . SONNET . XII . MY spotlesse loue hoouers with purest wings , About the temple of the proudest frame : Where blaze those lights fayrest of earthly things , which cleer our clowded world with brightest flame . M'ambitious thoughts confined in her face , Affect no honour but what she can giue , My hopes doe rest in limits of her grace , I weigh no comfort vnlesse she relieue . For she that can my hart imparadize , Holds in her fairest hand what deerest is , My fortunes wheele's the circle of her eyes , Whose rowling grace deigne once a turne of blis . All my liues sweet consists in her alone , So much I loue the most vnlouing one . SONNET . XIII . BEhold what hap Pigmalion had to frame , And carue his propper griefe vpon a stone , My heauy fortune is much like the same , I worke on Flint , and that 's the cause I mone . For haplesse loe euen with mine owne desires , I figured on the Table of mine hart , The fairest forme , that all the world admires , And so did perrish by my proper arte . And still I toyle , to change the Marble breast Of her , whose sweetest grace I doe adore , Yet cannot finde her breathe vnto my rest , Hard is her hart , and woe is me therefore . O happy he that ioy'd his stone and arte , Vnhappy I to loue a stony hart . SONNET . XIIII . THose snary locks , are those same nets ( my Deere , ) Where-with my libertie thou didst surprize ; Loue was the flame that fired me so neere , The Dart transpearsing , were those Christall eyes . Strong is the net , and feruent is the flame ; Deepe is the wound my sighes doe well report : Yet doe I loue , adore , and praise the same , That holds , that burnes , that wounds me in this sort . And list not seeke to breake , to quench , to heale , The bond , the flame , the wound that festreth so , By knife , by liquor , or by salue to deale : So much I please to perrish in my woe . Yet least long trauailes be aboue my strength , Good DELIA lose , quench , heale me now at length . SONNET . XV. IF that a loyall hart and fayth vnfained , If a sweet languish with a chast desire , If hunger-staruen thoughts so long retained , Fed but with smoake , and cherisht but with fire . And if a brow with cares characters painted , Bewraies my loue , with broken words halfe spoken , To her that sits in my thoughts Temple sainted , And layes to view my Vultur-gnawne hart open . If I haue done due homage to her eyes , And had my sighes still tending on her name ; If on her loue my life and honour lyes , And shee ( th'vnkindest mayd ) still scornes the same , Let this suffise , that all the world may see , The fault is hers , though mine the hurt must bee . SONNET . XUI. HAppy in sleepe , waking content to languish , Imbracing clowdes by night , in day time mourne , My ioyes but shadowes , touch of truth my anguish , Griefes euer springing , comforts neuer borne . And still expecting when she will relent , Growne hoarce with crying mercy , mercy gyue ; So many vowes , and prayers hauing spent , That weary of my selfe , I loathe to lyue . And yet the Hydra of my cares renewes , Still new-borne sorrowes of her fresh disdaine : And still my hope the Sommer windes pursues , Finding no end nor period of my paine . This is my state , my griefes doe touch so neerely , And thus I liue because I loue her deerely . SONNET . XVII . WHy should I sing in verse , why should I frame , These sad neglected notes for her deere sake ? Why should I offer vp vnto her name , The sweetest sacrifice my youth can make ? Why should I striue to make her liue for euer , That neuer deignes to giue me ioy to liue ? Why should m'afflicted Muse so much endeuour , Such honour vnto crueltie to giue ? If her defects haue purchast her this fame , What should her vertues doe , her smiles , her loue ? If this her worst , how should her best inflame ? What passions would her milder fauours moue ? Fauours ( I thinke ) would sence quite ouer-come , And that makes happy Louers euer dombe . SONNET . XVIII . SInce the first looke that led me to this error , To this thoughts-maze , to my confusion tending : Still haue I liu'd in griefe , in hope , in error , The circle of my sorrowes neuer ending . Yet cannot leaue her loue that holds me hatefull , Her eyes exact it , though her hart disdaines me ; See what reward he hath that serues th' vngrateful , So true and loyall loue no fauour gaines me . Still must I whet my young desires abated , Vpon the Flint of such a hart rebelling ; And all in vaine , her pride is so innated , Shee yeeldes no place at all for pittyes dwelling . Oft haue I told her that my soule did loue her , ( And that with teares , ) yet all this will not moue her . SONNET . XIX . REstore thy tresses to the golden Ore , Yeeld Cithereas sonne those Arkes of loue ; Bequeath the heauens the starrs that I adore , And to th' Orient doe thy Pearles remoue . Yeeld thy hands pride vnto th' Iuory white , T' Arabian odors giue thy breathing sweet : Restore thy blush vnto Aurora bright , To Thetis giue the honour of thy feete . Let Venus haue thy graces , her resign'd , And thy sweet voyce giue backe vnto the Spheares : But yet restore thy fierce and cruell minde , To Hyrcan Tygers , and to ruthles Beares . Yeeld to the Marble thy hard hart againe ; So shalt thou cease to plague , and I to paine . SONNET . XX. IF Beauty thus be clowded with a frowne , That pitty shines no comfort to my blis , And vapours of disdaine so ouer-growne , That my liues light thus wholy darkned is . Why should I more molest the world with cryes ? The ayre with sighes , the earth below with teares ? Sith I liue hatefull to thōse ruthlesse eyes , Vexing with vntun'd moane her dainty eares . If I haue lou'd her deerer then my breath , My breath that calls the heauens to witnes it : And still must hold her deere till after death . And if that all this cannot moue a whit , Yet let her say , that she hath done me wrong , To vse me thus , and know I lou'd so long . SONNET . XXI . COme Death the anchor-hold of all my thoughts , My last resort whereto my soule appeales , For all too-long on earth my fancy dotes , Whilst age vpon my wasted body steales . That hart being made the prospectiue of horror , That honored hath the cruelst faire that liues , The cruelst faire , that sees I languish for her , Yet neuer mercy to my merrite giues . Thys is her Lawrell and her triumphes prize , To tread me downe with foote of her disgrace : Whilst I did build my fortune in her eyes , And layd my liues rest on so faire a face ; Which rest I lost , my loue , my life and all , So high attempts to low disgraces fall . SONNET . XXII . THese sorrowing sighes , the smoakes of mine annoy , These teares , which heate of sacred flame distils , Are those due tributes that my faith doth pay Vnto the Tyrant , vvhose vnkindnes kils . I sacrifize my youth , and blooming yeeres , At her proude feete , and she respects not it : My flowre vntimely's withred with my teares , And Winter woes , for spring of youth vnfit . Shee thinks a looke may recompence my care , And so with lookes , prolongs my long-lookt ease , As short that blisse , so is the comfort rare , Yet must that blisse my hungry thoughts appease . Thus she returnes my hopes so fruitlesse euer , Once let her loue indeed , or eye me neuer . SONNET . XXIII . FAlse Hope prolongs my euer certaine griefe , Traytour to me , and faithfull to my Loue : A thousand times it promis'd me reliefe , Yet neuer any true effect I proue . Oft when I find in her no truth at all , I bannish her , and blame her trecherie ; Yet soone againe I must her backe recall , As one that dyes without her companie . Thus often as I chase my hope from mee , Straight-way shee hastes her vnto DELIAS eyes , Fed with some pleasing looke there shall shee bee , And so sent backe , and thus my fortune lyes . Lookes feede my Hope , Hope fosters me in vaine , Hopes are vnsure , when certaine is my paine . SONNET . XXIIII . LOoke in my griefes , and blame me not to mourne , From care to care that leades a life so bad ; Th' Orphan of Fortune , borne to be her scorne , Whose clowded brow doth make my dayes so sad . Long are their nights whose cares doe neuer sleepe , Lothsome their dayes , whom no sunne euer ioyd , Her fairest eyes doe penetrate so deepe , That thus I liue both day and night annoyd . But sith the sweetest roote doth yeeld thus much , Her praise from my complaint I may not part : I loue th' effect for that the cause is such , I le praise her face , and blame her flinty hart . Whilst that we make the world admire at vs , Her for disdaine , and me for louing thus . SONNET . XXU. RAigne in my thoughts faire hande , sweete eye , rare voyce , Posses me whole , my harts triumvirate : Yet heauy hart to make so hard a choyse , Of such as spoile thy poore afflicted state . For whilst they striue which shall be Lord of all , All my poore life by them is troden downe : They all erect their Trophies on my fall , And yeeld me nought that giues thē their renowne , When backe I looke , I sigh my freedome past , And waile the state wherein I present stand ; And see my fortune euer like to last , Finding me rain'd with such a heauie hand ; What can I do but yeeld ? and yeeld I doo , And serue all three , and yet they spoyle me too . SONNET . XXVI . Alluding to the Sparrow pursued by a Hauke , that flew into the bosome of Zenocrates . WHilst by her eyes pursu'd , my poore hart flew it , Into the sacred bosome of my deerest : Shee there in that sweet sanctuarie slew it , Where it presum'd his safetie to be neerest . My priuiledge of faith could not protect it , That was with blood & three yeres witnes signed : In all which time shee neuer could suspect it , For well shee sawe my loue , and how I pined . And yet no comfort would her brow reueale me , No lightning looke , which falling hopes erecteth ; What bootes to lawes of succour to appeale mee ? Ladies and Tyrants , neuer lawes respecteth . Then there I die , where hop'd I to haue liuen ; And by that hand , which better might haue giuen . SONNET . XXVII . STill in the trace of my tormented thought , My ceaselesse cars must mattch on to my death : Thy least regard too deerelie haue I bought , Who to my comfort neuer deign'st a breath . Why should'st thou stop thine cares now to my cryes , Whose eyes were open , ready to oppresse me ? Why shutt'st thou not the cause whence al did rise , Or heare me now , and seeke how to redresse me ? Iniurious DELIA , yet He loue thee still , Whilst that I breathe in sorrow of my smart : I le tell the world that I deseru'd but ill , And blame my selfe for to excuse thy hart . Then iudge who sinnes the greater of vs twaine , I in my loue , or thou in thy disdaine . SONNET . XXVIII . OFt doe I meruaile , whether DELIAS eyes , Are eyes , or els two radiant starres that shine : For how could Nature euer thus deuise , Of earth on earth a substance so diuine . Starrs sure they are , whose motions rule desires , And calme and tempest follow their aspects : Their sweet appearing still such power inspires , That makes the world admire so strange effects . Yet whether fixt or wandring starrs are they , Whose influence rule the Orbe of my poore hart ? Fixt sure they are , but wandring make me stray , In endles errors , whence I cannot part . Starrs then , not eyes , moue you with milder view , Your sweet aspect on him that honours you . SONNET . XXIX . THE starre of my mishap imposd this paine , To spend the Aprill of my yeeres in wayling , That euer found my fortune in the wayne , With still fresh cares my present woes assayling . Yet her I blame not , though for her t is done , But my desires wings so high aspyring , Which now are melted by that glorious Sunne , That makes in fall from off my hie desiring . And in my fall , I cry for helpe with speed . No pittying eye lookes backe vpon my mourning , No succour finde I now when most I need , Th' Ocean of my teares must drowne me burning . Whilst my distress shall christen her a new , And giue the Cruell Fayre this title due . SONNET . XXX . AND yet I cannot reprehend the flight , Or blame th' attempt presuming so to sore , The mounting venter for a high delight , Did make the honour of the fall the more . For who gets wealth that puts not from the shore ? Daunger hath honour , great designes their fame , Glorie doth follow courage goes before . And though th' euent oft aunswers not the same , Suffise that high attempts haue neuer shame . The Meane-obseruer , ( whom base Safety keepes , ) Liues without honour , dies without a name , And in eternall darknes euer sleepes . And therefore DELIA , t is to me no blot , To haue attempted , though attain'd thee not . SONNET . XXXI . RAysing my hopes on hills of high desire , Thinking to scale the heauen of her hart , My slender meanes presum'd too high a part ; Her thunder of disdaine forst me retyre , And threw mee downe to paine in all this fire , Where loe I languish in so heauie smart , Because th' attempt was farre aboue my arte : Her pride brook'd not poore soules should come so nie her . Yet I protest my high aspyring will , Was not to dispossesse her of her right : Her soueraignty should haue remained still , I onely sought the blisse to haue her sight . Her sight contented thus to see mee spill , Fram'd my desires fit for her eyes to kill . SONNET . XXXII . O Why doth DELIA credite so her glasse , Gazing her beautie deign'd her by the skyes ; And doth not rather looke on him ( alas ) whose state best shewes the force of murthering eyes The broken tops of loftie trees declare , The furie of a mercy-wanting storme : And of what force your wounding glances are , Vpon my selfe you best may find the forme . Then leaue your glasse , and gaze your selfe on mee , That Mirror shewes what power is in your face : To view your forme too much , may daunger bee , Narcissus chang'd t' a flower in such a case . And you are chang'd , but not t' a Hiacint ; I feare your eye hath turn'd your hart to flint . SONNET . XXXIII . I Once may see when yeres shall wreck my wrong , When golden hayres shall change to siluer wier : And those bright rayes that kindle all this fire , Shall faile in force , their working not so strong . Then beautie , ( now the burthen of my song , ) Whose glorious blaze the world doth so admire , Must yeeld vp all to tyrant Times desire ; Thē fade those flowers that deckt her pride so long . When , if shee grieue to gaze her in the glasse , Which then presents her winter-withered hew , Goe you my verse , goe tell her what she was ; For what shee was shee best shall finde in you . Your fierie heate lets not her glorie passe , But ( Phenix-like ) shall make her liue anew . SONNET . XXXIIII . LOoke Delia how we steeme the half blowne Rose , The image of thy blush , and Sommers honour : Whilst in her tender greene shee doth inclose , The pure sweet beauty Time bestowes vpon her . No sooner spreades her glory in the ayre , But straight her ful-blowne pride is in declining ; Shee then is scorn'd that late adorn'd the fayre : So clowdes thy beauty after fairest shining . No Aprill can reuiue thy withred flowers , Whose blooming grace adornes thy glory now : Swift speedy Time , feathred with flying howers , Dissolues the beautie of the fairest brow . O let not then such riches waste in vaine , But loue whilst that thou maist be lou'd againe . SONNET . XXXV . BVT loue whilst that thou maist be lou'd againe . Now whilst thy May hath fill'd thy lap with flowers , Now whilst thy beauty beares without a staine ; Now vse thy Sommer smiles , ere Winter lowers . And whilst thou spread'st vnto the rysing sunne , The fairest flowre that euer saw the light , Now ioy thy time before thy sweet be done , And ( Delia , ) thinke thy morning must haue night . And that thy brightnes sets at length to West , When thou wilt close vp that which now thou showest , And thinke the same becomes thy fading best , Which then shall hide it most , and couer lowest . Men doe not wey the stalke for that it was , When once they find her flowre her glory passe . SONNET . XXXVI . WHen men shall finde thy flower , thy glory passe , And thou with carefull brow sitting alone : Receiued hast this message from thy glasse , That tells the truth , and saies that all is gone ; Fresh shalt thou see in mee the wounds thou madest , Though spent thy flame , in me the heat remaining , I that haue lou'd thee thus before thou fadest , My faith shall waxe , when thou art in thy waining . The world shall finde this myracle in mee , That fire can burne when all the matter 's spent : Then what my faith hath beene thy selfe shalt see , And that thou wast vnkind , thou maist repent . Thou maist repent that thou hast scorn'd my teares , When winter snowes vpon thy golden haires . SONNET . XXXVII . WHen VVinter snowes vpon thy golden haires , And frost of age hath nipt thy flowers neere , VVhen dark shal seeme thy day that neuer cleeres , And all lies withred that was held so deere . Then take this picture which I heere present thee , Limned with a Pensill not all vnworthy : Heere see the gifts that God and nature lent thee , Heare reade thy selfe , and what I suffred for thee . This may remaine thy lasting monument , Which happily posteritie may cherrish , These colours with thy fading are not spent , These may remaine when thou and I shall perrish . If they remaine , then thou shalt liue thereby . They will remaine , and so thou canst not die . SONNET . XXXVIII . THou canst not die whilst any zeale abound In feeling harts , that can conceiue these lynes ; Though thou a Laura hast no Petrarch found , In base attyre , yet cleerely Beauty shines . And I ( though borne within a colder clime , ) Doe feele mine inward heate as great , ( I know it , ) Hee neuer had more faith , although more rime , I loue as well , though he could better show it . But I may add one feather to thy fame , To helpe her flight throughout the fairest I le . And if my pen could more enlarge thy name , Then shouldst thou liue in an immortall stile . For though that Laura better limned bee , Suffise , thou shalt be lou'd as well as shee . SONNET . XXXIX . O Be not grieu'd that these my papers should Bewray vnto the world how faire thou art : Or that my wits haue shewed the best they could . ( The chastest flame that euer warmed hart . ) Thinke not ( sweet DELIA , ) this shall be thy shame , My Muse should sound thy praise with mournefull warble , How many liue , the glory of whose name , Shall rest in Ise , when thine is grau'd in Marble . Thou maist in after ages liue esteem'd , Vnburied in these lines reseru'd in purenes ; These shall intombe those eyes , that haue redeem'd Mee from the vulgar , thee from all obscurenes . Although my carefull accents neuer moou'd thee , Yet count it no disgrace that I haue lou'd thee . SONNET . XL. DELIA , these eyes that so admireth thine , Haue seene those walls the which ambition reared , To check the world , how they intombd haue lyen . Within thēselues ; & on them ploughes haue eared . Yet found I that no barbarous hand attaind . The spoyle of same deseru'd by vertuous men : VVhose glorious actions luckily had gaind , Th' eternall Annals of a happy pen. Why thē though DELIA fade , let that not moue her , Though time doe spoile her of the fairest vaile That euer yet mortalitie did couer ; Which must instarre the needle and the Raile . That grace , that vertue , all that seru'd t'in-woman , Dooth thee vnto eternitie assommon . SONNET . XLI . FAyre and louely mayde , looke from the shore , See thy Leander striuing in these waues : Poore soule quite spent , whose force can do no more , Now send forth hopes , for now calme pitty saues . And waft him to thee with those louely eyes , A happy conuoy to a holy Land : Now shewe thy power , and where thy vertue lyes , To saue thine owne , stretch out the fairest hand . Stretch out the fairest hand , a pledge of peace ; That hand that darts so right and neuer misses : I shall forget old wrongs , my griefes shall cease ; And that which gaue me wounds , I le giue it kisses . O then let th' Ocean of my care find shore , That thou be pleas'd , and I may sigh no more . SONNET . XLII . REade in my face a volume of dispayres , The wailing Iliads of my tragicke woe ; Drawne with my blood , & printed with my cares , VVrought by her hand that I haue honour'd so . VVho whilst I burne , shee sings at my soules wrack , Looking aloft from Turret of her pride : There my soules Tyrant ioyes her , in the sack Of her owne seate , whereof I made her guide . There doe these smoakes that from affliction rise , Serue as an incense to a cruell Dame ; A sacrifice thrice-gratefull to her eyes , Because their powre serue to exact the same . Thus ruines shee ( to satisfie her will , ) The Temple , where her name was honour'd still . SONNET . XLIII . MY DELIA hath the waters of mine eyes , The ready handmaids on her grace attending : That neuer fall to ebb , but euer rise , For to their flow shee neuer grants an ending . Th' Ocean neuer did attend more dulie Vpon his soueraignes course , the nights pale Queen , Nor paid the impost of his waues more truely , Then mine vnto her Deitie haue been . Yet nought the rock of that hard hart can moue , Where beate these teares with zeale , & fury driueth , And yet I rather languish in her loue , Then I would ioy the fairest shee that liueth . I doubt to finde such pleasure in my gayning , As now I taste , in compasse of complayning . SONNET . XLIIII . HOwe long shall I in mine affliction mourne ? A burthen to my selfe , distrest in mind , VVhen shall my interdicted hopes returne , From out dispaire wherein they liue confin'd . VVhen shall her troubled brow , charg'd with disdaine , Reueale the treasure which her smyles impart : VVhen shall my faith the happines attaine , To breake the Ise that hath congeald her hart . Vnto herselfe , herselfe my loue doth sommon , ( If loue in her hath any power to moue , ) And let her tell me as shee is a woman , VVhether my faith hath not deseru'd her loue . I know shee cannot but must needs confesse it , Yet deignes not with one simple signe t' expresse it . SONNET . XLV . BEautie ( sweet Loue , ) is like the morning dewe , VVhose short refresh vpon the tender greene : Cheeres for a time but till the Sunne doth shew , And straight t is gone as it had neuer beene . Soone doth it fade that makes the fairest florish , Short is the glory of the blushing Rose : The hewe which thou so carefully dost nourish , Yet which at length thou must be forc'd to lose . VVhen thou surcharg'd with burthen of thy yeeres , Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth , VVhen time hath made a pasport for thy seares , Dated in age the Kalends of our death . But ah no more , this hath beene often tolde , And women grieue to thinke they must be olde . SONNET . XLVI . I Must not grieue my Loue , whose eyes would reede Lynes of delight , whereon her youth might smyle ; Flowers haue a tyme before they come to seed , And shee is young , and now must sport the while . Ah sport ( sweet Maid ) in season of these yeeres , And learne togather flowers before they wither : And where the sweetest blossoms first appeares , Let loue and youth conduct thy pleasures thither . Lighten forth smyles to cleere the clowded ayre , And calme the tempest which my sighes do rayse , Pittie and smiles doe best become the faire , Pittie and smiles shall yeeld thee lasting praise . I hope to say , when all my griefes are gone , Happie the hart that sigh'd for such a one . SONNET . XLVII . At the Authors going into Italie . O Whether ( poore forsaken ) wilt thou goe , To goe from sorrow , and thine owne distresse , When euery place presents like face of woe , And no remoue can make thy sorrowes lesse ? Yet goe ( forsaken , ) leaue these woods , these playnes , Leaue her and all , and all for her that leaues Thee and thy loue forlorne , and both disdaines ; And of both , wrongfull deemes , and ill conceaues . Seeke out some place , and see if any place Can giue the least release vnto thy griefe : Conuay thee from the thought of thy disgrace , Steale from thy selfe , and be thy cares own thiefe . But yet what comfort shall I heereby gaine ? Bearing the wonnd , I needs must feele the paine . SONNET . XLVIII . This Sonnet was made at the Authors beeing in Italie . DRawne with th' th'attractiue vertue of her eyes , My toucht hart turnes it to that happie cost : My ioyfull North , where all my fortune lyes , The leuell of my hopes desired most . There where my DAELIA , fairer then the Sunne , Deckt with her youth wheron the world doth smile , Ioyes in that honour which her eyes haue wonne , Th' eternall wonder of our happy Ile . Florish faire ALBION , glorie of the North , Neptunes best darling , held betweene his armes : Deuided from the world as better worth , Kept for himselfe , defended from all harmes . Still let disarmed peace decke her and thee : And Muse-foe Mars , abroad farre fostred bee . SONNET . XLIX . CAre-charmer Sleepe , sonne of the sable Night , Brother to death , in silent darknes borne : Relieue my languish , and restore the light , With darke forgetting of my cares returne . And let the day be time enough to mourne , The shipwrack of my ill aduentred youth : Let waking eyes suffise to waile their scorne , Without the torment of the nights vntruth . Cease dreames , th' imaginary of our day desires , To modell forth the passions of the morrow , Neuer let rysing Sunne approue you lyers , To adde more griefe to agrauate my sorrow . Still let mee sleepe , imbracing clowdes in vaine , And neuer wake to seele the dayes disdaine . SONNET . L. LET others sing of Knights and Palladines , In aged accents , and vntimely words , Paint shadowes in imaginarie lines , Which wel the reach of their high wits records ; But I must sing of thee , and those faire eyes . Autentique shall my verse in time to come , When yet th' vnborne shal say , Loe where she lyes , Whose beauty made him speak that els was dombe . These are the Arkes the Trophies I erect , That fortifie thy name against old age : And these thy sacred vertues must protect , Against the darke and Times consuming rage . Though th' error of my youth they shall discouer , Suffise , they shew I liu'd , and was thy louer . SONNET . LI. AS to the Roman that would free his Land , His error was his honour and renowne : And more the fame of his mistaking hand , Then if he had the Tyrant ouer-throwne . So DELIA hath mine errour made me knowne . And my deceiu'd attempt , deseru'd more fame , Then if I had the victory mine owne : And thy hard hart had yeelded vp the same . And so likewise , renowmed is thy blame , Thy crueltie , thy glorie ; ô strange case , That errours should be grac'd that merrite shame , And sinne of frownes bring honor to the face . Yet happy DELIA that thou wast vnkind , But happier yet , if thou wouldst change thy minde . SONNET . LII . LIke as the Lute , that ioyes or els dislikes , As is his arte that playes vpon the same , So sounds my Muse , according as shee strikes On my hart strings , high tun'd vnto her fame . Her touch doth cause the warble of the sound , Which heere I yeeld in lamentable wise , A wailing deskant on the sweetest ground , VVhose due reports giue honour to her eyes . Els harshe my stile , vntunable my Muse , Hoarce sounds the voyce that praiseth not her name , If any pleasing relish heere I vse , Then iudge the world her beauty giues the same . Ō happy ground that makes the musique such , And blessed hand that giues so sweet a touch , SONNET . LIII . NOne other fame myne vnambitious Muse , Affected euer , but t'eternize thee : All other honours doe my hopes refuse , Which meaner priz'd and momentarie be . For God forbid I should my papers blot , VVith mercynarie lines , with seruile pen : Praysing vertues in them that haue them not , Basely attending on the hopes of men . No no , my verse respects nor Thames nor Theaters , Nor seekes it to be knowne vnto the great , But Auon poore in fame , and poore in waters , Shall haue my song where DELIA hath her seate . Auon shall be my Thames , and shee my song , I le sound her name the Riuer all along . SONNET . LIIII . VNhappy pen , and ill accepted papers , That intimate in vaine my chast desires : My chast desires , ( the euer-burning Tapers , ) Inkindled by her eyes celestiall fires . Celestiall fires , and vnrespecting powers , That deigne not viewe , the glory of your might : In humble lines the worke of carefull howres , The sacrifice I offer to her sight . But sith shee scornes her owne , this rests for mee , I le mone my selfe , and hide the wrong I haue , And so content mee that her frownes should be To m'infant stile the cradle and the graue . What though my selfe no honour get thereby , Each byrd sings to her selfe , and so will I. SONNET . LU. LOE heere the impost of a faith vnfayning , That loue hath paid , and her disdaine extorted : Behold the message of my iust complaining , That shewes the world how much my griefe imported . These tributarie plaints fraught with desire , I send those eyes , the cabinets of loue ; The Paradice whereto my hopes aspire , From out this hell , which mine afflictions proue . Wherein I thus doe liue , cast downe from myrth , Pensiue alone , none but dispaire about mee , My ioyes abortiue , perrisht at their birth , My cares long liu'd , and will not die without mee . This is my state , and DELIAS hart is such ; I say no more , I feare I said too much . FINIS .
An Ode . NOW each creature ioyes the other , passing happy dayes and houres , One byrd reports vnto an other , in the fall of siluer showers , Whilst the earth ( our common mother , ) hath her bosome deckt with flowers . Whilst the greatest Torche of heauen , with bright rayes warmes FLORAS lap , Making nights and dayes both euen , cheering plants with fresher sap : My field of flowers quite bereauen , wants refresh of better hap . ECCHO , daughter of the Ayre , ( babbling guest of Rocks and Hills , ) Knowes the name of my fierce Fatre , And sounds the accents of my ills . Each thing pitties my dispaire , whilst that shee her Louer kills . Whilst that shee ( O cruell Mayd , ) doth mee and my loue dispise , My liues florish is decayd , that depended on her eyes : But her will must be obeyd , and well he ends for loue who dies . FINIS .

THE Complaynt of ROSAMOND .

THE COMPLAINT OF ROSAMOND . OVT from the horror of Infernall deepes , My poore afflicted ghost comes heere to plaine it , Attended with my shame that neuer sleepes , The spot wher-with my kinde and youth did staine it . My body found a graue where to containe it . A sheete could hide my face , but not my sin , For Fame findes neuer tombe t' inclose it in . And which is worse , my soule is now denied , Her transport to the sweet Elisian rest , The ioyfull blisse for ghostes repurified , Th' euer-springing Gardens of the blest , Caron denies mee wastage with the rest . And sayes , my soule can neuer passe the Riuer , Till Louers sighes on earth shall it deliuer . So shall I neuer passe ; for how should I Procure this sacrifice amongst the liuing ? Time hath long since worne out the memorie , Both of my life , and liues vniust depriuing , Sorrow for mee is dead for aye reuiuing . ROSAMOND hath little left her but her name , And that disgrac'd , for time hath wrong'd the same . No Muse suggests the pittie of my case , Each penne doth ouer-passe my iust complaint , VVhilst others are preferd , though farre more base ; Shores wife is grac'd , and passes for a Saint ; Her Legend iustifies her foule attaint . Her wel-told tale did such compassion finde , That shee is pass'd , and I am left behind . VVhich seene with griefe , my miserable ghost , ( VVhilome inuested in so faire a vaile , VVhich whilst it liu'd , was honoured of the most , And being dead , giues matter to bewaile . ) Comes to sollicite thee , ( since others faile , ) To take this taske , and in thy wofull song To forme my case , and register my wrong . Although I know thy iust lamenting Muse , Toyld in th'affliction of thine owne distresse , In others cares hath little time to vse , And therefore maist esteeme of mine the lesse : Yet as thy hopes attend happy redresse , Thy ioyes depending on a womans grace , So mooue thy minde a wofull womans case . DELIA may hap to deigne to reade our story , And offer vp her sigh among the rest , VVhose merrite would suffise for both our glory , VVhereby thou might'st be grac'd , and I be blest ; That indulgence would profit me the best . Such power shee hath by whom thy youth is led , To ioy the liuing , and to blesse the dead . So I ( through beauty ) made the wofull'st wight , By beauty might haue comfort after death : That dying fayrest , by the fairest might Find life aboue on earth , and rest beneath . Shee that can blesse vs with one happy breath . Giue comfort to thy Muse to doe her best , That thereby thou maist ioy , and I might rest . Thus said : forth-with mou'd with a tender care , And pittie , ( which my selfe could neuer finde , ) VVhat shee desir'd , my Muse deign'd to declare , And therefore , will'd her boldly tell her mind . And I ( more willing , ) tooke this charge assignd , Because her griefes were worthy to be knowne , And telling hers might hap forget mine owne . Then write ( quoth shee ) the ruine of my youth , Report the downe-fall of my slippry state , Of all my life reueale the simple truth , To teach to others what I learnt too late . Exemplifie my frailtie , tell how Fate Keepes in eternall darke our fortunes hidden , And ere they come , to know them t is forbidden . For whilst the sun-shine of my fortune lasted , I ioy'd the happiest warmth , the sweetest heate That euer yet imperious beautie tasted , I had what glorie euer flesh could get : But this faire morning had a shamefull set . Disgrace darkt honour , sinne did clowd my brow , As note the sequel , and I le tell thee how . The blood I staind , was good and of the best , My birth had honour , and my beautie fame : Nature and Fortune ioyn'd to make me blest , Had I had grace t' haue knowne to vse the same . My education shew'd from whence I came , And all concurd to make me happy furst , That so great hap might make me more accurst . Happie liu'd I , whilst Parents eye did guide , The indiscretion of my feeble waies , And Country home kept mee from being eyde , Where best vnknowne I spent my sweetest dayes ; Till that my friends mine honour sought to raise , To higher place , which greater credite yeelds , Deeming such beauty was vnfit for seeldes . From Country then to Court I was preferr'd , From calme to stormes , from shore into the deepes : There where I perrish'd , where my youth first err'd , There where I lost the flowre which honour keepes ; There where the worser thriues , the better weepes ; Ah mee ( poore wench , ) on this vnhappy shelfe , I grounded me , and cast away my selfe . For thither com'd , when yeeres had arm'd my youth , With rarest proofe of beautie euer seene : When my reuiuing eye had learnt the truth , That it had power to make the winter greene , And flowre affections whereas none had beene ; Soone could I teach my brow to tyrannize , And make the world doe homage to mine eyes . For age I saw , ( though yeeres with cold conceit , Congeald their thoughts against a warme desire , ) Yet sigh their want , and looke at such a baite . I saw how youth was waxe before the fire . I saw by stealth , I fram'd my looke a lyre . Yet well perceiu'd , how Fortune made me then The enuie of my sexe , and wonder vnto men . Looke how a Comet at the first appearing . Drawes all mens eyes with wonder to behold it ; Or as the faddest tale at suddaine hearing , Makes silent lishring vnto him that told it , So did my speech when Rubies did vnfold it . So did the blazing of my blush appeare , T' amaze the world , that holds such sights so deer . Ah beauty Syred , faire enchaunting good , Sweet silent rethorique of perswading eyes : Dombe eloquēce , whose power doth moue the blood , More then the words , or wisedome of the wise ; Still harmonie , whose diapason lies Within a brow , the key which passions moue , To rauish sence , and play a world in loue . VVhat might I then not doe whose power was such ? What cannot women doe that know their powre ? VVhat women knowes it not ( I feare too much ) How blisse or bale lyes in their laugh or lowre ? Whilst they enioy their happy blooming flowre , Whilst nature decks her her proper faire Which cheeres the world , ioyes each sight , sweetens th' ayre . Such one was I , my beauty was mine owne , No borrowed blush which banck-rot beauties seeke : That new-found shame , a sinne to vs vnknowne , Th' adulterate beauty of a falsed cheeke : Vilde staine to honour , and to women eeke , Seeing that time our fading must detect , Thus with defect to couer our defect . Impietie of times , chastitles abator , Falshood , wherein thy selfe thy selfe deniest : Treason , to counterfeit the seale of Nature , The stampe of heauen , impressed by the hiest . Disgrace vnto the world , to whom thou lyest . Idoll vnto thy selfe , shame to the wise , And all that honour thee idolatrise . Farre was that sinne from vs whose age was pure , VVhen simple beauty was accounted best , The time when women had no other lure But modestie , pure cheekes , a vertuous brest . Thys was the pompe wher-with my youth was blest . These were the weapons which mine honor wun In all the conflicts which mine eyes begun . VVhich were not smal , I wrought on no meane obiect , A Crowne was at my feete , Scepters obeyde mee , Whō Fortune made my King , Loue made my subiect , Who did cōmaund the land , most humbly praid mee , HENRY the second , that so highly weigh'd mee , Found well ( by proofe ) the priuiledge of Beauty , That it had powre to counter-maund all duty . For after all his victories in FRAVNCE , Tryumphing in the honour of his deedes : Vnmatch'd by sword , was vanquisht by a glaunce , And hotter warrs within his bosome breedes . VVarrs , whom whole Legions of desires feedes . Against all which , my chastitie opposes The field of honour , vertue neuer loses . No armour might be found that could defend , Transpearcing rayes of Christall poynted eyes : No stratagem , no reason could amend , No not his age ; ( yet old men should be wise . ) But shewes deceiue , outward appearance lies . Let none for seeming so , thinke Saints of others , For all are men , and all haue suckt their mothers . Who wold haue thought a Monarch would haue euer Obeyd his hand-mayde of so meane estate ; Vultur ambition feeding on his lyuer , Age hauing worne his pleasures out of date , But hap comes neuer , or it comes too late . For such a dainty which his youth found not , Vnto his feeble age did chaunce a-lot . Ah Fortune , neuer absolutely good , For that some crosse still counter-checks our luck ; As heere behold th'incompatible blood , Of age and youth was that whereon we stuck : VVhose lothing , we from natures brests doe suck , As opposite to what our blood requires . For equall age , doth equall like desires . But mighty men , in highest honour sitting , Nought but applause and pleasure can behold : Sooth'd in their liking , carelesse what is fitting , May not be suffred once to thinke the' are old : Not trusting what they see , but what is told . Miserable fortune to forget so farre , The state of flesh , and what our frailties are . Yet must I needes excuse so great defect , For drinking of the Lethe of mine eyes , H 'is forc'd forget himselfe , and all respect Of maiestie , whereon his state relies : And now of loues , and pleasures must deuise . For thus reuiu'd againe , he serues and su'th , And seekes all meanes to vndermine my youth . Which neuer by assault he could recouer , So well incamp'd in strength of chaste desires : My cleane-arm'd thoughts repell'd an vnchast louer . The Crowne that could commaund what it requires , I lesser priz'd then chastities attires . Th'vnstained vaile , which innocents adorns , Th'vngathred Rose , defended with the thornes . And safe mine honour stood , till that in truth , One of my sexe , of place , and nature bad , VVas set in ambush to intrap my youth . One in the habite of like frailty clad . One who the liu'ry of like weakenes had . A seeming Matron , yet a sinfull Monster , As by her words the chaster sort may conster . Shee set vpon mee with the smoothest speech That Court and age could cunningly deuise : Th' one autentique , made her fit to teach , The other learnt her how to subtelise . Both were enough to circumuent the vvise . A document that well may teach the sage , That ther 's no trust in youth , nor hope in age . Daughter ( said shee , ) behold thy happy chaunce , That hast the lot cast downe into thy lap , VVhereby thou maist thy honor great aduaunce , Whilst thou ( vnhappy ) wilt not see thy hap : Such fond respect thy youth doth so inwrap , T' oppose thy selfe against thine own good fortune , That points thee out , & seemes thee to importune . Doost thou not see , how that thy King ( thy Ioue , ) Lightens forth glory on thy darke estate : And showres downe gold and treasure from aboue , VVhilst thou doost shut thy lap against thy fate ? Fie fondling fie , thou wilt repent too late The error of thy youth ; that canst not see VVhat is the fortune that doth follow thee . Thou must not thinke thy flowre can alwaies florish , And that they beautie will be still admired : But that those rayes which all these flames do nourish , Canceld with Time , will haue theyr date expired , And men will scorne what nowe is so desired . Our frailties doome is written in the flowers , Which florish now , and fade ere many howers . Reade in my face the ruines of my youth , The wrack of yeeres vpon my aged brow , I haue beene faire , ( I must confesse the truth , ) And stoode vpon as nyce respects as thou ; I lost my time , and I repent it now . But were I to begin my youth againe , I would redeeme the time I spent in vaine . But thou hast yeeres , and priuiledge to vse them , Thy priuiledge doth beare Beauties great seale ; Besides , the law of nature doth excuse them , To whom thy youth may haue a iust appeale . Esteeme not Fame more then thou doost thy weale . Fame , ( wherof the world seems to make such choice , ) Is but an Eccho , and an idle voyce . Then why should this respect of honor bound vs , In th' imaginary lifts of reputation ? Titles which cold seueritie hath found vs , Breath of the vulgar , foe to recreation : Melancholies opinion , Customes relation ; Pleasures plague , beauties scourge , hell to the faire , To leaue the sweet , for Castles in the ayre . Pleasure is felt , opinion but conceau'd , Honour , a thing without vs , not our owne : VVhereof we see how many are bereau'd , VVhich should haue reap'd the glory they had sowne . And many haue it , yet vnworthy , knowne . So breathes his blast thys many-headed beast , VVhereof the wisest haue esteemed least . The subtile Citty-women , better learned , Esteeme them chast enough that best seeme so : Who though they sport , it shall not be discerned , Their face bewraies not what their bodies doe ; T is warie walking that dooth safeliest goe . With shew of vertue , as the cunning knowes , Babes are beguild with sweets , & men with showes . Then vse thy tallent , youth shall be thy warrant , And let not honour from thy sports detract : Thou must not fondly thinke thy selfe transparent , That those who see thy face can iudge thy fact , Let her haue shame that cannot closely act . And seeme the chast , which is the chiefest arte , For what we seeme each see , none knowes our hart . The mighty , who can with such sinnes dispence , In steed of shame doe honors great bestow : A worthy author doth redeeme th' offence , And makes the scarelet sinne as white as snow . The Maiestie that doth descend so low , Is not defilde , but pure remaines therein , And being sacred , sanctifies the sin . VVhat , doost thou stand on this , that hee is olde ? Thy beauty hath the more to worke vpon . Thy pleasures want shall be supply d with gold , Cold age dotes most when heate of youth is gone : Enticing words preuaile with such a one . Alluring shewes most deepe impression strikes , For age is prone to credite what it likes . Heere interupt , shee leaues mee in a doubt , VVhen loe began the combat in my blood , Seeing my youth inuirond round about , The ground vncertaine where my reasons stood ; Small my defence to make my party good , Against such powers which were so surely layd , To ouer-throw a poore vnskilfull Mayd . Treason was in my bones , my selfe conspiring , To sell my selfe to lust , my soule to sin : Pure-blushing shame was euen in retiring , Leauing the sacred hold it glori'd in . Honor lay prostrate for my flesh to win , When cleaner thoughts my weakenes gan vp bray , Against my selfe , and shame did force mee say ; Ah ROSAMOND , what dooth thy flesh prepare ? Destruction to thy dayes , death to thy fame ; Wilt thou betray that honor held with care , T' entombe with blacke reproch a spotted name , Leauing thy blush , the colours of thy shame . Opening thy feete to sinne , thy soule to lust , Gracelesse to lay thy glory in the dust . Nay , first let th' earth gape wide to swallow thee , And shut thee vp in bosome with her dead , Ere Serpent tempt thee taste for bidden Tree , Or feele the warmth of an vnlawfull bed ; Suffring thy selfe by lust to be misled ; So to disgrace thy selfe and grieue thine heyres , That Cliffords race should scorne thee one of theirs . Neuer wish longer to inioy the ayre , Then that thou breath'st the breath of chastitie : Longer then thou preseru'st thy soule as faire As is thy face , free from impuritie . Thy face , that makes th' admir'd in euery eye , Where Natures care such rarities inroule , Which vs'd amisse , may serue to damne thy soule . But what ? hee is my King , & may constraine mee , Whether I yeeld or not , I liue defamed . The world will thinke authority did gaine mee , I shall be iudg'd his Loue , and so be shamed . We see the faire condemn'd , that neuer gamed . And if I yeeld , t is honourable shame , If not , I liue disgrac'd , yet thought the same . What way is left thee then ( vnhappy maide , ) Whereby thy spotlesse foote , may wander out This dreadfull daunger , which thou seest is layd , Wherein thy shame dooth compasse thee about ? Thy simple yeeres cannot resolue this doubt . Thy youth can neuer guide thy foote so euen , But ( in despight ) some scandale will be giuen . Thus stood I ballanc'd equally precize , Till my fraile flesh did weigh me downe to sin ; Till world and pleasure made me partialize , And glittering pompe my vanity did win . When to excuse my fault my lusts begin . And impious thoughts alledg'd this wanton clause , That though I sinn'd , my sinne had honest cause . So well the golden balls cast downe before me , Could entertaine my course , hinder my way : Whereat my retchlesse youth stooping to store me , Lost me the gole , the glory , and the day . Pleasure had set my wel-schoold thoughts to play , And bade me vse the vertue of mine eyes , For sweetly it fits the fayre to wantonise . Thus wrought to sin , soone was I traind from Court , T' a solitarie Grange , there to attend The time the King should thither make resort , Where he loues long-desired worke should end . Thither he daily messages doth send , VVith costly Iewels ( Orators of loue , ) Which ( ah too wel men know ) doe women moue . The day before the night of my defeature , Hee greets mee with a Casket ritchly wrought ; So rare , that arte did seeme to striue with nature , T' expresse the cunning work-mans curious thought ; The mistery whereof I prying sought . And found engrauen on the lidde aboue , Amymone , how shee with Neptune stroue . Amymone , old Danans fairest Daughter , As shee was fetching water all alone At Lerna : whereas Neptune came and caught her , From whom shee striu'd and strugled to be gone , Beating the ayre with cryes and pittious mone . But all in vaine , with him sh' is forc'd to goe , T is shame that men should vse poore maidens so . There might I see described how shee lay , At those proude feete , not satis-fied with prayer : VVayling her heauie hap , cursing the day , In act so pittious to expresse dispatre . And by how much more grieu'd , so much more faire . Her teares vpon her cheekes ( poore careful gerle , ) Did seeme against the sunne christall and pearle . Whose pure cleer streams , ( which loe so faire appeares , ) VVrought hotter flames , ( ô miracle of loue , ) That kindles fire in water , heate in teares , And makes neglected beautie mightier proue , Teaching afflicted eyes affects to moue ; To shew that nothing ill becomes the faire , But cruelty , which yeelds vnto no prayer . This hauing viewd , & therewith somthing moued , Figured I finde within the other squares , Trans-formed IO , IOVES deerely loued , In her affliction how shee strangely fares . Strangely distress'd , ( ô beauty , borne to cares . ) Turn'd to a Heiffer , kept with iealous eyes , Alwaies in danger of her hatefull spyes . These presidents presented to my view , Wherein the presage of my fall was showne , Might haue fore-warn'd me well what would ensue , And others harmes haue made me shun mine owne . But fate is not preuented , though fore-knowne . For that must hap , decreed by heauenly powers , Who worke our fall , yet make the fault still ours . Witnes the world , wherein is nothing rifer , Then miseries vnkend before they come : Who can the characters of chaunce discipher , Written in clowdes of our concealed dome ? Which though perhaps haue been reueald to some , Yet that so doubtful , ( as successe did proue them , ) That men must know they haue the heauens aboue thē . I saw the sinne wherein my foote was entring , I saw how that dishonour did attend it , I saw the shame whereon my flesh was ventring , Yet had I not the powre for to defend it . So weake is sence when error hath condemn'd it . We see what 's good , and thereto we consent , But yet we choose the worst , and soone repent . And now I come to tell the worst of ilnes , Now drawes the date of myne affliction neere . Now when the darke had wrapt vp all in stilnes , And dreadfull black had dispossess'd the cleere , Com'd was the Night , ( mother of sleepe and feare ; ) Who with her Sable-mantle friendly couers , The sweet-stolne sports , of ioyfull meeting Louers . When loe , I ioyd my Louer , not my Loue , And felt the hand of lust most vndesired : Enforc'd th'vnprooued bitter sweet to proue , Which yeelds no mutuall pleasure when t is hired . Loue 's not constrain'd , nor yet of due required . Iudge they who are vnfortunately wed , What t is to come vnto a loathed bed . But soone his age receiu'd his short contenting , And sleepe seald vp his languishing desires : VVhen he turnes to his rest , I to repenting , Into my selfe my waking thought retires : My nakednes had prou'd my sences lyers . Now opned were mine eyes to looke therein , For first we taste the fruite then see our sin . Now did I finde my selfe vnparadis'd , From those pure fieldes of my so cleane beginning : Now I perceiu'd how ill I was aduis'd , My fleshe gan loathe the new-felt touch of sinning . Shame leaues vs by degrees , not at first winning . For nature checks a new offence with lothing . But vse of sinne doth make it seeme as nothing . And vse of sinne did worke in me a boldnes , And loue in him , incorporates such zeale , That iealosie increas'd with ages coldnes , Fearing to loose the ioy of all his weale . Or doubting time his stealth might els reueale , H' is driuen to deuise somesubtile way , How he might safeliest keepe so ritch a pray . A stately Pallace hee forth-with did builde , VVhose intricate in numerable waies , VVith such confused errors so beguild Th'vnguided entrers with vncertaine straies , And doubtfull turnings kept them in delayes , With bootlesse labour leading them about , Able to find no way , nor in , nor out . VVithin the closed bosome of which frame , That seru'd a Center to that goodly round : VVere lodgings , with a Garden to the same , With sweetest flowers that eu'r adorn'd the ground . And all the pleasures that delight hath found , T' entertaine the sence of wanton eyes , Fuell of loue , from whence lusts flames arise . Heere I enclos'd from all the world a sunder , The Minotaure of shame kept for disgrace , The Monster of Fortune , and the worlds wonder , Liu'd cloystred in so desolate a case : None but the King might come into the place . VVith certaine Maydes that did attend my need , And he himselfe came guided by a threed . O Iealousie , daughter of Enuy'and Loue , Most way-ward issue of a gentle Syer ; Fostred with feares , thy Fathers ioyes t' improue , Myrth-marring Monster , borne a subtile lyer ; Hatefull vnto thy selfe , flying thine owne desire : Feeding vpon suspect that doth renue thee , Happy were Louers if they neuer knew thee . Thou hast a thousand gates thou enterest by , Condemning trembling passions to our hart ; Hundred eyed Argus , euer-waking Spie , Pale Hagge , infernall Furie , pleasures smart , Enuious Obseruer , prying in euery part ; Suspicious , fearefull , gazing still about thee , O would to God that loue could be without thee . Thou didst depriue ( through false suggesting feare , ) Him of content , and mee of libertie : The onely good that women hold so deere , And turnst my freedome to captiuitie , First made a Frisoner , ere an enemy . Enioynd the raunsome of my bodies shame , Which though I paid , could not redeeme the same . What greater torment euer could haue beene , Then to inforce the faire to liue retir'd ? For what is beauty if it be not seene ? Or what is' t to be seene , vnlesse admir'd ? And though admir'd , vnlesse in loue desir'd ? Neuer were cheekes of Roses , locks of Amber , Ordain'd to lyue imprison'd in a Chamber . Nature created beauty for the view , ( Like as the fire for heate , the Sunne for light : ) The faire doe hold this priuiledge as due By auncient Charter , to lyue most in sight , And shee that is debarr'd it , hath not right . In vaine our friends ( in this ) vse their dehorting , For beauty will be where is most resorting . Witnes the fairest streets that Thames doth visite , The wondrous concourse of the glittering Faire : For what rare women deckt with beauty is it , That thether couets not to make repayre ? The solitary Country may not stay her . Heere is the center of all beauties best , Excepting DELIA , left t' adorne the West . Heere doth the curious with iudiciall eyes , Contemplate beauty gloriously attired : And heerein all our chiefest glory lyes , To liue where we are prais'd and most desired . O how we ioy to see our selues admired , Whilst niggardly our fauours we discouer , We loue to be belou'd , yet scorne the Louer . Yet would to God my foote had neuer mou'd From Countrey safetie , from the fields of rest : To know the danger to be highly lou'd , And lyue in pompe to braue among the best , Happy for mee , better had I been blest ; If I vnluckily had neuer straide , But liu'd at home a happy Country Maide . VVhose vnaffected innocencie thinks No guilefull fraude , as doth the Courtly liuer : She 's deckt with trueth , the Riuer where shee drinks Doth serue her for her glasse , her counsell giuer : She loues sincerely , and is loued euer . Her daies are peace , and so she ends her breath , ( True life that knowes not what 's to diecil death . ) So should I neuer haue beene registred , In the blacke booke of the vnfortunate : Nor had my name enrold with Maydes misled , VVhich bought theyr pleasures at so hie a rate . Nor had I taught ( through my vnhappy sate , ) This lesson , ( which my selfe learnt with expence , ) How most it hurts that most delights the sence . Shame followes sinne , disgrace is duly giuen , Impietie will out , neuer so closely done : No walls can hide vs from the eye of heauen , For shame must end what wickednes begun ; Foorth breakes reproch when we least thinke thereon . And this is euer propper vnto Courts , That nothing can be done , but Fame reports . Fame doth explore what lyes most secrete hidden , Entring the closet of the Pallace dweller : Abroade reuealing what is most forbidden , Of truth and falshood both an equall teller . T is not a guard can serue for to expell her . The sword of iustice cannot cut her wings , Nor stop her mouth from vtt'ring secrete things . And this our stealth shee could not long conceale , From her whom such a forfeit most concerned : The wronged Queene , who could so closely deale , That shee the whole of all our practise learned , And watcht a time when least it was discerned , In absence of the King , to wreake her wrong , With such reuenge as shee desired long . The Laberinth shee entred by that threed , That seru'd a conduct to my absent Lord , Left there by chaunce , reseru'd for such a deed , VVhere shee surpriz'd mee whom shee so abhord . Enrag'd with madnes , scarce shee speakes a word , But flyes with eager furie to my face , Offring mee most vnwomanly disgrace . Looke how a Tygresse that hath lost her whelpe , Runns fiercely raging through the woods astray : And seeing her selfe depriu'd of hope or helpe , Furiously assaults what 's in her way , To satis-fie her wrath , ( not for a pray ; ) So fell shee on mee in outragious wise , As could disdaine and iealousie deuise . And after all her vile reproches vs'd , Shee forst mee take the poyson shee had brought , To end the lyfe that had her so abus'd , And free her feares , and case her iealous thought . No cruelty her wrath would leaue vnwrought , No spightfull act that to reuenge is common ; ( For no beast fiercer then a iealous woman . ) Heere take ( saith shee ) thou impudent vncleane , Base graceles strumpet , take this next your hart ; Your loue-sick hart , that ouer-charg'd hath beene With pleasures surfeite , must be purg'd with arte . This potion hath a power , that will conuart To nought those humors that oppresse you so . And ( Gerle , ) I le see you take it ere I goe . What stand you now amaz'd , retire you back ? Tremble you ( minion ? ) come dispatch with speed . There is no helpe , your Champion now you lack , And all these teares you shed will nothing steed ; Those dainty fingers needes must doe the deed . Take it , or I will drench you els by force , And trifle not , least that I vse you worse . Hauing this bloody doome from hellish breath , My wofull eyes on euery side I cast : Rigor about me , in my hand my death , Presenting mee the horror of my last ; All hope of pitty and of comfort past . No meanes , no powre , no forces to contend , My trembling hands must giue my selfe my end . Those hands that beauties Ministers had been , They must giue death that me adorn'd of late , That mouth that newly gaue consent to sin , Must nowe receiue destruction in thereat . That body which my lust did violate , Must sacrifize it selfe t' appease the wrong . ( So short is pleasure , glory lasts not long . ) And shee no sooner saw I had it taken , But foorth shee rushes , ( proude with victory , ) And leaues m'alone , of all the world forsaken , Except of Death , which shee had left with me . ( Death and my selfe alone together be . ) To whom shee did her full reuenge refer . Ah poore weake conquest both for him and her . Then straight my Conscience summons vp my sin , T' appeare before me , in a hideous face ; Now doth the terror of my soule begin , When eu'ry corner of that hatefull place Dectates mine error , and reueales disgrace ; Whilst I remaine opprest in euery part , Death in my bodie , horror at my hart . Downe on my bed my lothsome selfe I cast , The bed that likewise giues in euidence Against my soule , and tells I was vnchast , Tells I was wanton , tells I followed sence . And therefore cast , by guilt of mine offence , Must heere the right of heauen needes satis-fie . And where I wanton lay , must wretched die . Heere I began to waile my hard mishap , My suddaine , strange vnlookt for misery . Accusing them that did my youth intrap , To gyue me such a fall of infamie . And poore distressed ROSAMOND , ( said I , ) Is this thy glory got , to die forlorne In Dezarts , where no eare can heare thee morne ? Nor any eye of pitty to behold The wofull end of thy sad tragedie ; But that thy wrongs vnseene , thy tale vntold , Must heere in secrete silence buried lie . And with thee , thine excuse together die . Thy sin reueal'd , but thy repentance hid , Thy shame aliue , but dead what thy death did . Yet breathe out to these walls the breath of mone , Tell th' ayre thy plaints , sith men thou canst not tell . And though thou perrish desolate alone , Tell yet thy selfe , what thy selfe knowes too well : Vtter thy griefe where with thy soule doth swell . And let thy hart , pitty thy harts remorse , And be thy selfe the mourner and the Corse . Condole thee heere , clad all in black dispaire , With silence onely , and a dying bed ; Thou that of late , so florishing , so fayre , Did glorious liue , admir'd and honored : And now from friends , from succour hether led , Art made a spoyle to lust , to wrath , to death , And in disgrace , forst heere to yeeld thy breath . Did Nature ( ô for thys ) deliberate , To shew in thee the glory of her best ; Framing thine eye the star of thy ill fate , And made thy face the foe to spoyle the rest ? O Beautie , thou an enemy profest , To chastitie and vs that loue thee most , Without thee how w' are loath'd , & with thee lost ? O you that proude with liberty and beautie , ( And ô may well be proude that you be so , ) Glitter in Court , lou'd and obseru'd of dutie ; O that I might to you but ere I goe Speake what I feele , to warne you by my woe , To keepe your feet in pure cleane pathes of shame , That no inticing may diuert the same . See'ng how against your tender weaknes still , The strength of wit , of gold , and all is bent ; And all th' assaults that euer might or skill , Can giue against a chaste and cleane intent : Ah let not greatnes worke you to consent . The spot is foule , though by a Monarch made , Kings cannot priuiledge a sinne forbade . Lock vp therefore the treasure of your loue , Vnder the surest keyes of feare and shame : And let no powres haue powre chast thoughts to moue To make a lawlesse entry on your fame . Open to those the comfort of your flame , VVhose equall loue shal martch with equal pace , In those pure waies that leade to no disgrace . For see how many discontented beds , Our owne aspyring , or our Parents pride Haue caus'd , whilst that ambition vainely weds Wealth and not loue , honor and nought beside : VVhilst married but to titles , we abide As wedded widdowes , wanting what we haue , When shadowes cannot giue vs what we craue . Or whilst we spend the freshest of our time , The sweet of youth in plotting in the ayre ; Alas how oft wee fall , hoping to clime . Or wither as vnprofitably faire , Whilst those decayes which are without repayre , Make vs neglected , scorned and reprou'd . ( And ô what are we , if we be not lou'd ? ) Fasten therefore vpon occasions fit , Least this , or that , or like disgrace as mine , Doe ouer-take your youth to ruine it , And clowde with infamie your beauties shine : Seeing how many seeke to vndermine The treasury that 's vnpossest of any : And hard t is kept that is desir'd of many . And flye , ( ô flye , ) these Bed-brokers vncleane , ( The Monsters of our sexe , ) that make a pray Of theyr owne kind , by an vnkindly meane ; And euen ( like Vipers , ) eating out a way Thorow th wombe of their own shame , accursed they Lyue by the death of Fame , the gaine of sin , The filth of lust , vncleanes wallowes in . O is it not enough that wee , ( poore wee , ) Haue weaknes , beauty gold , and men our foes , But we must haue some of our selues to bee Traytors vnto our selues , to ioyne with those ? Such as our feeble forces doe disclose , And still betray our cause , our shame , our youth , To lust , to follie , and to mens vntruth ? Hatefull confounders both of blood and lawes , Vilde Orators of shame , that pleade delight : Vngracious Agents in a wicked cause , Factors for darknes , messengers of night , Serpents of guile , diuels , that doe inuite The wanton taste of that forbidden tree , vvhose fruit once pluckt , will shew how foule we be . You in the habite of a graue aspect , ( In credite by the trust of yeeres , ) can shoe The cunning wayes of lust , and can direct The fayre and wilie wantons how to goe : Hauing ( your lothsome selues ) your youth spent so . And in vncleanes , euer haue beene fed , By the reuenue of a wanton bed . By you , haue beene the innocent betrayd , The blushing fearefull boldned vnto sin , The wife made subtile , subtile made the mayd , The husband scorn'd , dishonored the kin : Parents disgrac'd , children infamous been . Confus'd our race , and falsi-fied our blood , Whilst fathers sonnes , possess wrong Fathers good . This , and much more , I would haue vttred then , A testament to be recorded still , Signd with my blood , subscrib'd with Conscience pen , To warne the faire and beautifull from ill . And ô I wish ( by th' example of my will , ) I had not left this sin vnto the fayre , But dyde intestat to haue had no heire . But now , the poyson spred through all my vaines , Gan dispossesse my liuing sences quite : And naught respecting Death , ( the last of paines , ) Plac'd his pale colours , ( th'ensigne of his might , ) Vpon his new-got spoyle before his right ; Thence chac'd my soule , setting my day erenoone , When I least thought my ioyes could end so soone . And as conuaid t'vntimely suneralles , My scarce cold corse not suffred longer stay , Behold , the King ( by chaunce ) returning , falles T' incounter with the same vpon the way , As he repaird to see his deerest ioy . Not thinking such a meeting could haue beene , To see his Loue , and seeing beene vnscene . Iudge those whō chance depriues of sweetest treasure , VVhat t is to lose a thing we hold so deere : The best delight , wherein our soule takes pleasure , The sweet of life , that penetrates so neere . VVhat passions feeles that hart , inforc'd to beare The deepe impression of so strange a sight ? Tongue , pen , nor arte can neuer shew aright . Amaz'd hee stands , nor voyce nor body steares , Words had no passage , teares no issue found , For sorrow shut vp words , wrath kept in teares , Confus'd affects each other doe confound : Oppress'd with griefe , his passions had no bound . Striuing to tell his woes , words would not come ; For light cares speak , whē mighty griefs are dombe . At length , extreamitie breakes out a way . Through Which th' imprisoned voice with teares attended , VVailes out a sound that sorrowes doe bewray , VVith armes a-crosse , and eyes to heauen bended , Vaporing out sighes that to the skyes ascended . Sighes , ( the poore ease calamitie affoords , ) Which serue for speech whē sorrow wanteth words . O heauens ( quoth hee , ) why doe mine eyes behold The hatefull rayes of this vnhappy sunne ? Why haue I light to see my sinnes controld , With blood of mine own shame thus vildly done ? How can my sight endure to looke thereon ? VVhy doth not blacke eternall darknes hide , That from mine eyes , my hart cannot abide ? VVhat saw my life , wherein my soule might ioy , VVhat had my dayes , whom troubles stil afflicted , But onely this , to counterpoize annoy ? This ioy , this hope , which Death hath interdicted ; This sweet , whose losse hath all distresse inflicted . This , that did season all my sowre of life , Vext still at home with broyles , abroad in strise . Vext still at home with broyles , abroad in strife , Dissention in my blood , iarres in my bed : Distrust at boord , suspecting still my life , Spending the night in horror , dayes in dread ; ( Such life hath Tyrants , and this life I led . ) These miseries goe mask'd in glittering showes , Which wise men see , the vulgar little knowes . Thus as these passions doe him ouer-whelme , Hee drawes him neere my body to behold it . And as the Vine married vnto the Elme With strict imbraces , so doth hee infold it . And as he in his carefull armes doth hold it , Viewing the face that euen death commends , On sencelesse lips , millions of kisses spends . Pittifull mouth ( saith hee ) that lyuing gauest The sweetest comfort that my soule could wish : O be it lawfull now , that dead thou hauest , This sorrowing fare-well of a dying kisse . And you faire eyes , containers of my blisse , Motiues of loue , borne to be matched neuer , Entomb'd in your sweet circles sleepe for euer . Ah how me thinks I see Death dallying seekes , To entertaine it selfe in Loues sweet place ; Decayed Roses of discolloured checkes , Doe yet retaine deere notes of former grace : And vglie Death sits faire within her face ; Sweet remnants resting of vermillion Red , That Death it selfe doubts whether shee be dead . VVonder of beauty , oh receiue these plaints , These Obsequies , the last that I shall make thee : For loe , my soule that now already faints , ( That lou'd thee liuing , dead will not forsake thee , ) Hastens her speedy course to ouer-take thee . I le meet my death , and free my selfe thereby , For ( ah ) what can hee doe that cannot die ? Yet ere I die , thus much my soule doth vow , Reuenge shall sweeten death with ease of minde : And I will cause posteritie shall know , How faire thou wert aboue all women kind . And after-ages Monuments shall find , Shewing thy beauties title , not thy name , Rose of the world that sweetned so the same . This said , though more desirous yet to say , ( For sorrow is vnwilling to giue ouer , ) Hee doth represse what griefe would els bewray , Least hee too much his passions should discouer . And yet respect scarce bridles such a Louer . So farre transported that he knew not whither , For Loue and Maiestie dwell ill together . Then were my funeralls not long deferred , But done with all the rites pompe could deuise , At Godstow , where my body was interred , And ritchly tomb'd in honourable wise , Where yet as now scarce any note descries Vnto these times , the memory of mee , Marble and Brasse so 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 bee . For those walls which the credulous deuout , And apt-belieuing ignorant did found : With willing zeale , that neuer call'd in doubt , That time theyr works should euer so confound , Lye like confused heapes as vnder-ground . And what theyr ignoraunce esteem'd so holy , The wiser ages doe account as follie . And were it not thy fauourable lynes , Re-edified the wrack of my decayes , And that thy accents willingly assignes , Some farthar date , and giue me longer dayes , Few in this age had knowne my beauties prayse . But thus renewd , my fame redeemes some time , Till other ages shall neglect thy time . Then when confusion in her course shall bring , Sad desolation on the times to come : When mirth-lesse Thames shal haue no Swan to sing , All Musique silent , and the Muses dombe . And yet euen then it must be knowne to some , That once they florisht , though not cherisht so , And Thames had Swannes as well as euer Po. But heere an end , I may no longer stay thee , I must returne t' attend at Stigian flood : Yet ere I goe , this one word more I pray thee , Tell DELIA , nowe her sigh may doe mee good , And will her note the frailtie of our blood . And if I passe vnto those happy banks , Thē she must haue her prayse , thy pen her thanks . So vanquisht shee , and left mee to returne , To prosecute the tenor of my woes : Eternall matter for my Muse to Mourne , But ( ah ) the world hath heard too much of those , My youth such errors must no more disclose . I le hide the rest , and grieue for what hath beene , Who made me known , must make me liue vnseene . FINIS .

The text of Daniel's Cleopatra, originally published here, appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document under its own name and with the filename A19816_03.