The hardest hils do feed the fairest flockes;
All greatest sweetes were sugred first with sowres,
The headlesse course of vncontrolled houres,
To all difficulties a way vnlockes.
I hope to haue an Heauen within thine armes,
And quiet calmes when all these stormes are past,
Which coming vnexpected at the last,
May burie in obliuion by-gone harmes.
To suffer first, to sorrow, sigh, and smart,
Endeeres the conquest of a cruell hart.
AH! will no soule giue eare vnto my mone?
Who answers thus so kindly when I crie?
What fostred thee that pities my despaire?
Thou blabbing guest, what know'st thou of
my fall?
What did I when I first my faire disclos'd?
Where was my reason, that it would not
doubt?
What canst thou tell me of my ladie's will?
Wherewith can she acquit my loyall part?
What hath she then with me to disaguise? aguise
What haue I done, since she gainst loue
What did I when I her to life prefer'd?
What did mine eyes, whilst she my heart
What did she whil'st my Muse her praise
And what? and how this doth me most
What if I neuer sue to her againe?
And what when all my passions are represt?
But what thing will best serue t'asswage
And what will serue to mitigate my rage?
I see the Sunne begins for to descend.
SMALL Comfort might my banish'd hopes recall,
When whiles my daintie faire I sighing see;
If I could thinke that one were shed for me,
It were a guerdon great enough for all:
Or would she let one teare of pittie fall,
That seem'd dismist from a remorsefull eye,
I could content my selfe vngrieu'd to die,
And nothing might my constancie appall.
The onely sound of that sweet word of loue,
Prest 'twixt those lips that do my doome containe,
Were I imbark'd, might bring me backe againe
From death to life, and make me breathe and moue.
Strange crueltie, that neuer can afford
So much as once one sigh, one teare, one word.
LET others of the world's decaying tell,
I enuy not those of the golden age,
That did their carelesse thoughts for nought engage,
But, cloy'd with all delights, liu'd long and well:
And as for me, I mind t' applaud my fate;
Though I was long in comming to the light,
Yet may I mount to fortune's highest height,
So great a good could neuer come too late;
I'm glad that it was not my chance to liue,
Till as that heauenly creature first was borne,
Who as an angell doth the Earth adorne,
And buried vertue in the tombe reuiue:
For vice ouerflowes the world with such a flood,
That in it all, saue she, there is no good.
ALL that behold me on thy beautie's shelfe,
To cast my selfe away toss'd with conceit,
Since thou wilt haue no pitie of my state,
Would that I tooke some pitie of my selfe:
"For what," say they, "though she disdaine to bow,
And takes a pleasure for to see thee sad,
Yet there be many a one that would be glad,
To bost themselves of such a one as thou."
But, ah, their counsell of small knowledge sauours,
For O, poore fooles, they see not what I sec,
Thy frownes are sweeter than their smiles can be,
The worst of thy disdaines worth all their fauours:
I rather (deare) of thine one looke to haue,
Then of another all that I would craue.
In silent horrours here, where neuer mirth remaines, I do retire my selfe apart, as rage and griefe constraines :
So may I sigh vnknowne, whilst other comfort failes,
An infranchised citizen of solitarie vales; [please,
Her priuiledge to plain, since nought but plaints can
My sad conceptions I disclose, diseased at my ease.
No barren pitie here my passions doth increase,
Nor no detracter here resorts, deriding my distresse :
But wand'ring through the world, a vagabonding
[rest,
Acquiring most contentment then when I am reft of
Against those froward fates, that did my blisse con-
troule,
[my soule.
I thunder forth a thousand threats in th' anguish of
And lo, lunaticke-like do dash on euery shelfe,
And conuocate a court of cares for to condemne my
My fancies, which in end time doth fantasticke try,
I figure forth essentially in all the objects by:
In euery corner where my recklesse eye repaires,
I reade great volumes of mishaps, memorials of
despaires :
All things that I behold vpbraid me my estate,
And oft I blush within my brest, asham'd of my
[winds, Those branches broken downe with mercy-wanting Obiect me my deiected state, that greater fury finds: Their winter-beaten weed disperst vpon the plaine, Are like to my renounced hopes, all scattred with disdaine.
Lo, wond'ring at my state, the strongest torrent
And turning and returning oft, would scorne my crooked wayes.
In end I find my fate ouer all before my face, Enregistred eternally in th' annales of disgrace. Those crosses out of count might make the rockes
[striue : That this small remanent of life for to extinguish And yet my rockie heart so hardned with mishaps, Now by no meanes can be commou'd, not with Ioue's thunder claps:
But in huge woes inuolu'd with intricating art, Surcharg'd with sorrowes I succomb, and senslesly do smart ;
And in this labyrinth exil'd from all repose,
I consecrate this cursed corpes a sacrifice to woes: Whilst many a furious plaint my smoaking breast shall breath,
Ecclips'd with many a cloudie thought, aggrieu'd vnto the death:
With th' eccho plac'd beside some solitary sourse, Disastrous accidents shall be the ground of our dis
Her maimed words shal show how my hurt heart half dies,
Consum'd with corrosiues of care, caractred in mine
[spects,
My Muse shall now no more, transported with re-
Exalt that euill deseruing one as fancie still directs:
Nor yet no partiall pen shall spot her spotlesse fame,
Vnhonestly dishonoring an honorable name.
But I shall sadly sing, too tragickly inclin'd, [mind.
Some subiect sympathizing with my melancholious
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