Well could he ride, and often men would say "That horse his mettle from his rider takes : Prond of subjection, noble by the sway,

So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep: To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, He had the dialect and different skill, Catching all passions in his craft of will:

That he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain In personal duty, following where he haunted: Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted; And dialogu'd for him what he would say, Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.

Many there were that did his picture get, To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; Like fools that in the imagination set The goodly objects which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd;

And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them

Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.

So many have, that never touch'd his hand, Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart. My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, And was my own fee-simple, not in part, What with his art in youth, and youth in art, Threw my affections in his charmed power, Reserv'd the stalk and gave him all my flower.

Yet did I not, as some my equals did. Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I mine honour shielded. Experience for me many bulwarks builded Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil

Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

'But, ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent
The destin'd ill she must herself assay?
Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-pass'd perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay ;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,

stop he makes!"

To be forbod the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
O appetite! from judgment stand aloof;
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
Though Reason weep, and cry "It is thy last."

'For further I could say "This man's untrue," And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew,

Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to d filing; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.

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Among the many that mine eyes have seen, Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd,

Or my affection put to the smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charm'd:
Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was
harm'd;

Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,
And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy.

"Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me,

Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;

strives,

Paling the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves!
She that her fame so to herself contrives,
The scars of battle 'scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.

"O pardon me, in that my boast is true;
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly;
Religious love put out religion's eve:
Not to be tempted, would she be immur'd,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procur'd.
"How mighty then you are, O! hear me tell:
The broken bosoms that to me belong

6.66 'And, lo! behold these talents of their hair,
With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,
I have receiv'd from many a several fair,
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd,
With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd,
And deep-brain'd sonnets, that did amplify
Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality.

The diamond; why, 'twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invis'd properties did tend;
The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend ;
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend
With objects manifold: each several stone,
With wit well blazon'd, smil'd or made some

moan.

raise;

And mine I pour your ocean all among:

I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong. Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.

Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense. 'gainst shame,

And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.

""Now all these hearts that do on mine depend
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine;
And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you made 'gainst mine
Lending soft audience to my sweet design.
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth."

'This said, his watery eyes he did dismount,
Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face:
Each cheek a river running from a fount
With brinish current downward flow'd apace.
O! how the channel to the stream gave grace!
Who glaz'd with crystal gate the glowing rose
That flame through water which their hue et-

closes.

WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd
youth,

Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love's best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with

For being both to me, both to each friend,

I

guess one angel in another's hell.

The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

III.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world could not hold argu-
ment,

Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then thou, fair son, that on this earth dost
shine,

Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.

If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise?

IV.

Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Such looks as none could look but beauty's

queen.

V.

She burn'd out love, as burneth;

straw with fire

soon as straw out

love?

Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.

Celestial as thou art, O! do not love that wrong,

Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.

Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.

One god is god of both, as poets feign; One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.

IX.

Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,

*

tongue.

For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will
Forbade the boy he should not pass those
grounds:

'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!

See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore,' She showed hers; he saw more wounds than

one,

And blushing fled, and left her all alone.

X.

Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,

Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring! Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded; Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!

Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, And falls, through wind, before the fall shoul be.

I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:

And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the war-like god un-
lac'd me,'

As if the boy should use like loving charms.
Even thus, quoth she, 'he seized on my lips,'
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I ran away.

XII.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather;

Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.

Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; O! my love, my love is young:

Age, I do defy thee: O sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For methinks thou stay'st too long.

XIII.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle glass that 's broken presently:

A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.

Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share :
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.

'Farewell,' quoth she, 'and come again tomorrow :'

Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether : "T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 'T may be, again to make me wander thither: 'Wander,' a word for shadows like thyself, As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east ; My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise

Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;

For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night :
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished
sight;

Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with