Fair-Virtue the Mistress of Philarete, Poem · Floating text 2

Fair-Virtue the Mistress of Philarete · Poem · Floating text 2

Sonnet. 1.

WHat is the cause, when elsewhere I resort,

I hauehave my Gestures, and Discourse more free?

And (if I please) can any Beauty Court,

Yet stand so dull, and so demure by thee?

Why are my speeches broken, whilst I talke?

Why doe I feare almost thy hand to touch?

Why dare I not imbrace thee as we walk,

Since, with the greatest Nymphs I'ue dar'd as much?

Ah! know that none of those I e're affected;

And therefore, vs'd a carelesse Courtship there:

Because, I neither their Disdaine respected,

Nor recon'd them, or their embraces deare.

But, louing Thee; my LoueLove hath found content;

And rich delights, in things indifferent.

Sonnet. 2.

WHy Couet I, thy blessed eyes to see;

Whose sweet aspect, may cheere the saddest mind?

Why, when our bodies must diuided be,

Can I no howre of rest, or pleasure find?

Why doe I sleeping start, and waking mone,

To finde, that of my dreamed Hopes I misse?

Why, doe I of…en contemplate alone,

Of such a thing as thy Perfection is?

And wherefore, when we meet, doth Passion stop

My speechles Tongue, and leaue me in a panting?

Why, doth my heart o'rechargd with feare & hope

(In spight of Reason) almost droop to fainting?

Because, in Me thy excellencies mouing,

HaueHave drawne me to an Excellence in louing.

Sonnet. 3

FAire, since thy Virtues my affections moue,

And I hauehave vowd, my purpose is to ioyne,

(In an eternall Band of chastest LoueLove)

Our Soules, to make a Mariage most diuine.

Why (thou maist thinke) then, seemeth he to prize,

An outward Beauties fading how so much?

Why, doth he read such Lectures in mine eyes?

And often striue my tender palme to touch?

Oh pardon my presuming: For I sweare,

My LoueLove is soyled, with no lustfull spot:

Thy Soules perfections, through those vailes appeare,

And I halfe faint, that I embrace them not.

No foule Desires, doth make thy touches sweet:

But, my Soule striueth, with thy Soule to meet.

Sonnet 4.

SHall I wasting in Dispaire,

Dye because a Womans faire?

Or make pale my cheekes with care,

Cause anothers Rosie are?

Be shee fairer then the Day,

Or the Flowry Meads in May;

If She be not so to me,

What care I how faire shee be.

Should my heart be grieud or pin'd,

Cause I see a Woman kind?

Or a well disposed Nature,

Ioyned with a louely Feature?

Be shee meeker, kinder, than

Turtle-Doue, or Pelican:

If shee be not so to me,

What care I, how kind she be.

Shall a Womans Virtues moue,

Me, to perish for her louelove?

Or, her well-deseruing knowne,

Make me quite forget mine owne?

Be shee with that Goodnesse blest,

Which may gaine her, name of Best:

If she be not such to me,

What care I, how good she be.

Cause her Fortune seemes too high,

Shall I play the foole, and dye?

Those that beare a Noble minde,

Where they want of Riches find,

Thinke, what with them, they would doe,

That without them, dare to wooe.

And, vnlesse that mind I see,

What care I, though Great she be.

Great, or Good, or Kind, or Faire,

I will ne're the more dispaire,

If She louelove me, this beleeue;

I will die, er'e she shall grieue.

If she slight me, when I wooe;

I can scorne, and let her goe.

For, if shee be not for me,

What care I, for whom she be.

Sonnet 5.

I Wandred out, awhile agone,

And went I know not whither:

But, there doe Beauties many a one,

Resort, and meet together.

And Cupids power will there be showne,

If euer you come thither.

For, like two Sunnes, two Beauties bright,

I shining saw together.

And, tempted by their double light,

My eyes I fixt on either:

Till both at once, so thral'd my sight,

I lou'd, and knew not whether.

Such equall sweet Venus gaue,

That I prefer'd not either.

And when for louelove, I thought to craue,

I knew not well of whether.

For, one while, This, I wisht to hauehave,

And then, I That, had leifer.

A Louer of the curioust Eye,

Might hauehave been pleasd in either.

And so, I must confesse, might I,

Had they not been together.

Now, both must louelove, or both denie,

In one, enioy I neither.

But yet at last I scapt the smart,

I feard, at comming hither.

For, seeing my diuided heart,

I chusing, knew not whether.

LoueLove angry grew, and did depart;

And now, I care for neither.

SEe; these Trees so ill did hide vsus,

That the Shepheard hath espide vsus:

And (as iealous of his cunning)

All in hast away is running.

To entreat him backe againe,

Would be labour spent in vaine.

You may therefore, now, betake ye

To the Musicke I can make ye;

Who, doe purpose my Inuention,

Shall pursue my first Intention.

For, in Her (whose worth I tell)

Many excellences dwell,

Yet vnmention'd: whose perfections

Worthy are of best affections.

That, which is so rare to find,

Both in Man, and Womankind:

That; whose absence LoueLove defaceth,

And both Sexes more disgraceth,

Then the spight of furrowed Age,

Sicknesses, or Sorrowes rage:

That's the Iewell so diuine,

Which doth on her Forehead shine.

And, therewith endowed is Shee,

In an excellent degree.

CONSTANCY (I meane) the purest

Of all Beauties; and the surest.

For, who e're doth that possesse,

Hath an endlesse Louelinesse.

All Afflictions, Labours, Crosses,

All our Dangers, Wounds, and losses,

Games of Pleasure, we can make,

For that matchlesse Womans sake;

In whose brest that Virtue bideth:

And we ioy what e're betideth.

Most deiected Hearts it gladdeth:

Twenty thousand glories addeth

VntoUnto Beauties brightest Ray:

And, preserues it from decay.

Tis the Salt, that's made to season,

Beautie, for the vse of Reason.

Tis the Vernish, and the Oyling,

Keeps her Colours fresh, from spoiling.

Tis an Excellence, whereby

Age, though ioyn'd with Pouertie,

Hath more deare Affection wonne,

Then fresh Youth, and Wealth hauehave done.

Tis a Louelinesse, endearing

Beauties, scarce worth note, appearing;

Whil'st a fairer fickle Dame,

Nothing gaines, but scorne and shame.

Further; tis a Beautie, such

As I can nor praise too much,

Nor frame Measures, to expresse.

No; nor any man, vnlesse

He, who (more then all men crost)

Finds it in that Woman lost;

On whose Faith, he would hauehave pawnd

Life, and all he could commaund.

Such a Man may by that Misse

Make vsus know how deare it is;

When, o're-charg'd with Griefe, he shall

Sigh, and breake his heart withall.

This is that Perfection, which

In her fauour makes me rich.

All whose Beauties (nam'd before)

Else, would but torment me more:

And, in hauing this, I find,

(What e're haps) a quiet mind:

Yea, tis that, which I doe prize,

Farre aboue her Lips, her Eyes:

Or, that generall Beauty, whence

Shines each seuerall Excellence.

For, alas! what gaind hath he,

Who may clip the fairest Shee

(That the name of Woman beares)

If, vnhappily, he feares,

Any others Worth, may win,

What he thought his owne had bin?

Him, Base-minded deeme I should,

Who (although he were in Hold,

Wrapt in chaines) would not disdaine,

LoueLove with her to entertaine

That both daughter to a Peere,

And most rich and louely were;

When a brainelesse Gull shall dare,

In her, fauours with him share:

Or, the Action of a Player,

Robb him of a Hope so faire.

This, I dread not: For, I know,

Strained gestures, painted show,

Shamelesse boastings, borrowed Iests,

Female Looks, gay-plumed Crests,

Vowes nor protestations vaine,

(Wherwith fooles are made so vaine)

Moue her can; saue to contemne,

Or perhaps, to laugh at them.

Neither can I doubt, or feare,

Time shall either change or weare

This her Virtue: Or, impaire

That which makes her Soule, so faire.

In which Trust, great Comforts are,

Which, the feare of losse, would marr.

Nor hath this my rare Hope stood,

So much, in her being good;

(With her louelove to blessed Things)

As in her acknowledgings,

From a higher Power to hauehave them;

And her louelove, to Him, that gaue them.

For, although to hauehave a mind

Naturally to Good inclin'd,

(And to louelove it) would assure

Reason, that it might endure.

Yet (since Man was first vniust)

Ther's no warrant for such Trust.

Virtues, that most wonder winn,

Would conuerted be to Sin;

If their flourishings began,

From no better Root, then Man.

Our best Virtues, when they are

Of themselues, we may compare,

To the beautie of a Flower,

That is blasted in an howre:

And, which growing to be fuller,

Turnes into some loathed Colour.

But, those being freely giuen,

And confirm'd in vsus from Heauen;

HaueHave a promise on them past:

And for euermore shall last;

Diamond-like, their lustre clearing,

More and more, by vse and wearing.

But, if this rare Worth I praise,

Should by Fates permission, raise

Passions in some gentle Brest,

That distemper may his rest;

(And be Author of such Treason,

As might nigh endanger Reason)

Or, inforce his tongue to craue,

What another man must hauehave.

Marke, in such a Streight as this,

How discreet her dealing is.

Shee, is nothing of their humours,

Who, their honor build on Rumours,

And, had rather priuat sporting,

Then allow of open courting:

Nor of theirs, that would seeme holy,

By diuulging others folly.

Farther is she from their guise,

That delight to Tyrannize,

Or make boastings, in espying,

Others for their fauours dying.

Shee, a spirit doth possesse

So repleat with Noblenesse,

That, if shee be there beloued,

Where she ought not to be moued,

Equally, to louelove againe:

Shee, doth so well entertaine

That affection; as ther's none

Can suppose it, ill bestowne.

From deluding, she is free:

From disdaine, as farre is shee:

And so feelingly beares part,

Of what paines another heart;

That no curse, of scorned dutie,

Shall draw vengeance on her Beautie.

Rather, with so tender feare,

Of her Honour, and their care,

Shee is toucht; that neither shall,

Wrong vntounto her selfe, befall;

(By the fauour she doth show)

Nor will shee neglect them so;

As may iust occafion giuegive,

Any way to make them grieue.

Hope, she will not let them see,

Least they should presuming be;

And aspire to that, which none,

Euer must enioy but One.

From Dispaire, shee keepes them to;

Fearing, they might hap to doe,

Either through Loues indiscretions,

(Or much ouer stirred passions)

What, might with their hurt & shame,

Into question call her name.

And a scandall on her bring,

Who is iust in eueryevery thing.

Shee hath mark't how others runne;

And by them hath learn'd to shunne,

Both their fault, who (ouerwise)

Erre, by being too precise:

And their folly that o're kind,

Are to all complaints inclind.

For, her wit hath found the way,

How a while to hold them play;

And, that in conu…nience shunne,

Whereinto, both seeme to runne;

By allowing them a scope,

Iust betwixt Dispaire, and Hope.

Where confin'd, and reaching neither▪

They doe take a part in either:

Till, long liuing in suspence,

(Tyr'd by her indifference)

Time, at last, their Passion weares;

Passions wearing, Reason cleares;

Reason giues their Iudgement light;

Iudgement bringeth all to right.

So, their Hope appearing vaine,

They become themselues againe.

And, with high applauses, fit,

For such Virtue, with such Wit;

They, that seruice, onelyonly profer,

Shee may take, and they may offer.

Yet, this course she neuer proues;

Saue with those, whose virtuous Loues▪

Vse the noblest meanes of gaining,

Fauours, worthy the obtaining.

And, if such should chance to erre,

(Either 'gainst themselues, or her)

In some ouer-sights, when they,

Are through Passion led astray.

Shee, so well mans frailtie knowes,

With the Darts that Beautie throwes;

As she will not adding terror,

Breake the heart for one poore error.

Rather (if still good they be)

Twentie remedies hath she,

Gently to apply, where Sense

Hath inuaded Reasons Fence;

And, without or wound, or scarre,

Turnes to Peace, a lawlesse Warre.

But, to those whose baser fires,

Breath out smoke of such desires,

As may dimm with vnpure steames,

Any part of Beauties beames.

Shee, will daigne no milder way,

Those foule burnings to allay;

Saue, with such extreme neglect,

As shall worke her wisht effect.

And, to vse so sharpe a cure,

Shees not oft constrained sure.

Cause, vponupon her forhead, still

Goodnesse sits, so fear'd of Ill.

That the scorne, and high disdaines,

Where with all she entertaines,

Those loth'd glaunces; giueth ending,

To such flamings in the tynding:

That their cooled Hopes, needs must

Freeze Desires, in heat of Lust.

Tis a power that neuer lies,

In the fair'st immodest eyes.

VVantons; tis not your sweet eyings,

Forced Passions, fained Dyings,

Gestures temptings, Teares beguilings,

Dancings, Singings, Kissings, Smilings;

Nor those painted sweets, with which,

You vnwary men bewitch:

(All vnited, nor asunder)

That can compasse such a wonder.

Or, to winn you louelove preuailes,

Where her mouing Virtues, failes.

Beauties, tis not all those Features,

Placed in the fairest Creatures;

Though their best they should discouer,

That can tempt from Her, a Louer.

Tis not, those soft-snowie Brests,

Where LoueLove rockt in pleasure, rests;

(And by their continuall motions,

Draweth hearts to vaine deuotions)

Nor the Nectar that we sip

From a hony-dropping Lip:

Nor those Eyes, whence Beauties Launces,

Wound the heart, with wanton glances:

Nor, those sought Delights, that lye

In Loues hidden Treasurie▪

That, can liking gaine, where she,

Will the best beloued be.

For, should those who thinke they may,

Draw my louelove from her away;

Bring forth all their female Graces,

Wrapt me, in their close embraces;

Practise all the Art they may;

Weepe, or sing, or kisse, or pray,

And with sighs and lookes come woe me,

When they soonest may vndoe me:

One poore thought of Her, would arme me

So, as Circe could not harme me.

Since beside those Excellences,

Wherewith, others please the Senses;

She, whom I hauehave prised so,

Yeilds delights, for Reason to.

Who could Dote on thing so common,

As mere outward handsome Woman?

Those halfe-beauties, only winne

Fooles, to let affection in.

Vulger wits, from Reason shaken,

Are with such impostures taken:

And, with all their Art in LoueLove,

Wantons, can but Wantons moue.

But, when vntounto those, are Ioind;

Those things which adorne the Mind:

None, their excellences see,

But they straight enthralled be.

Fooles, and wisemen, worst and best,

Subiect are to Loues Arrest.

For, when Virtue wooes a Louer,

Shee's an vnresisted moouer:

That will hauehave no kind of Nay,

And in LoueLove brookes no delay.

She, can make the Sensuall Wights,

To restraine their Appetites.

And, (her beautie when they see)

Spight of Vice, in LoueLove to be:

Yea (although themselues be bad)

Praise the good they neuer had.

She, hath to her seruice brought,

Those, that Her, hauehave set at nought;

And can fayre enough appeare,

To enflame the most seueare.

She, hath oft allured out,

The religiously deuout,

From their Cloysters, & their Vowes▪

To embrace what She allowes:

And, to such contentments come,

As blind zeale had bard them from.

While (her lawes mis-vnderstood)

They did ill for louelove of Good.

Where I finde true worth to be,

Sweetest are their lipps to me:

And embraces tempt me to,

More then outward Beauties doe.

That my firme beleefe is this:

If euer I doe amisse;

Seeming-Good, the bayt will lay,

That to ill shall me betray:

Since, where shewes of Goodnesse are,

I am oft emboldned there,

Freedomes so permit, and vse;

Which, I else-where doe refuse:

For because I thinke they meane,

To allow no deed vncleane.

Yet, where two, louelove Virtue shall,

Both at once, they seldome fall.

For, when one hath thoughts of ill,

Tother helpes e…ile them still.

My faire Virtues powre is this.

And, that powre the Beauty is,

Which doth make Her, here exprest,

Equally both Faire, and Blest.

This, was that contenting Grace,

Which affection made me place,

With so deare respect, that neuer

Can it faile; but, last for euer.

This; a Seruant made me sworne,

Who before time, held in scorne,

To yeeld Vassilage, or Duty,

Though, vntounto the Queene of Beauty.

Yet, that I her Seruant am,

It shall more be to my fame;

Then to owne these Woods and Downes:

Or be Lord of fiftie Townes.

And my Mistresse to be deem'd,

Shall more honor be esteem'd;

Then those Titles to acquire,

Which most women, most desire.

Yea, when you a woman shall,

Countesse, or a Dutchesse call;

That respect it shall not moue,

Neither gaine her halfe such louelove,

As to say, Loe, this is she,

That supposed is to be,

Mistresse to PHIL…ARETE.

And, that louelie Nymph, which he,

In a Pastorall Poem fam'd,

And FAIRE-VIRTVE, there hath nam'd.

Yea, some Ladies (tenne to one)

If not many (now vnknowne)

Will be very well apaid,

When by chance, She heares it said

Shee, that Faire-one is; whom I,

Here hauehave prais'd, concealedly.

And, though now this Ages pride,

May so braue a Hope deride.

Yet, when all their Glories passe

As the thiug that neuer was;

(And on Monuments appeare,

That, they ere had breathing here)

Who enuy it: Shee shall thriue

In her Fame▪ And honor'd liue,

Whilst Great-Bri…taines Shepheards, sing

English, in their Sonnetting.

And, who ere in future dayes,

Shall bestow the vtmost praise,

On his LoueLove; that any Man,

Attribute to Creature can.

Twill be this; that he hath dared,

His, and Mine to hauehave compared.

Oh! what starres did shine on me,

When her Eyes I first did see?

And how good was their aspect,

When we first did both affect?

For, I neuer since to changing

Was enclind, or thought of ranging.

Me, so oft my Fancy drew,

Here and there, that I nere knew

Where to place Desire, before,

So, that range it might no more.

But, as he that passeth by,

Where in all her iollitie,

Floras riches in a row,

Doth in seemely order grow:

And a thousand Flowers stand,

Bending as to kisse his hand;

Out of which delightfull store,

One he may take; and no more.

Long he pausing, doubteth whether,

Of those faire ones he should gather.

First, the Primrose Courts his eyes;

Then, the Cowslip he espies;

Next, the Pansey seemes to wooe him;

Then, Carnations bow vntounto him:

Which, whil'st that enamour'd Swaine

From the stalke intends to straine,

(As halfe fearing to be seene)

Prettily her leaues betweene

Peepes the Violet: pale, to see,

That her Virtues sleighted be.

Which, so much his liking winnes,

That, to ceaze her, he beginnes.

Yet, before he stoopt so low,

He, his wanton eye did throw

On a Stemm that grew more high,

And the Rose did there espie:

Who, beside her pretious sent

(To procure his eyes content)

Did display her goodly Brest;

Where he found at full exprest,

All the Good, that Nature showers

On a thousand other Flowers.

Wherewith he, affected, takes it;

His beloued Flowre he makes it.

And, without desire of more,

Walkes through all, he saw before.

So, I wandring, but erewhile,

Through the Garden of this Ile,

Saw rich Beauties (I confesse)

And in number, numberlesse.

Yea, so differing louely to,

That, I had a world to doe,

Ere I could set vp my rest,

Where to chuse; and chuse the best.

One I saw, whose Haire excelled,

On anothers Brow there dwelled,

Such a Maiestie: it seemed,

Shee, was best to be esteemed.

This, had with her Speeches won me,

That, with Silence, had vndone me.

On her Lips, the Graces hung;

Tother, charm'd me with her tongue.

In her Eyes, a third did beare,

That, which did anew insnare.

Then a fourth did fairer show;

Yet, wherein I did not know.

OnelyOnly this perceiued I,

Somewhat pleas'd my Fantasie.

Now, the Wealth I most esteemed;

Honour then, I better deemed.

Next, the louelove of Beautie ceazd me,

And, then Virtue better pleas'd me.

Iuno's louelove, I nought esteem'd,

Whilst a Venus fairer seem'd.

Nay, both could not Me suffice;

Whilst a Pallas was more wise.

Though I found enough in One,

To content, if still alone.

Amarillis, I did wooe;

And I courted Phillis to.

Daphne, for her louelove I chose;

Cloris for that Damaske Rose,

In her Cheeke, I held as deare;

Yea, a thousand lik…, welneere.

And, in louelove with altogether,

Feared the enioying either;

Cause, to be of one possest,

Bar'd the hope of all the rest.

Thus I fondly far'd, till Fate,

Which (I must confesse in that

Did a greater fauour to me,

Then the world can malice doe me)

Shew'd to me that matchlesse Flowre,

Subiect for this Song of our.

Whose perfection, hauing eied,

Reason instantly espied;

That, Desire (which rang'd abroad)

There, would find a Period.

And no maruell, if it might:

For, it there hath all delight;

And in her hath Nature placed,

What each seuerall faire one graced.

Nor am I, alone delighted,

With those Graces all vnited;

Which the Senses eie, doth finde,

Scattered, throughout Womankind.

But, my Reason finds perfections,

To enflame my Soules affections.

Yea, such virtues she possesseth,

As with firmest pleasures blesseth:

And keepes sound, that Beauties state,

Which would else grow ruinate.

In this Flowre, are sweets such store;

I shall neuer, wish for more.

Nor be tempted out to stray,

For the fairest Budds in May.

Let who lift (for me) aduance,

The admired Flowres of France,

Let who will; praise, and behold,

The reserued Marigold.

Let the sweet breath't Violet, now,

VntoUnto whom she pleaseth, bow.

And the fairest Lillie, spread

Where she will, her golden head.

I hauehave such a Flowre to weare,

That for those I doe not care.

Neuer shall my Fancie range,

Nor once thinke againe of change:

Neuer will I; (neuer more)

Greeue, or sigh, as heretofore:

Nor within the Lodgings lie,

Of Dispaire, or Iealousie.

Let the young and happy Swaines,

Playing on the Britan Plaines:

Court vnblamd, their Sheepherdesses.

And with their gold-curled Tresses;

Toy vncensur'd; vntill I

Grutch at their prosperitie.

Let all Times; both Present, Past,

And the Age, that shall be last,

Vaunt the Beauties they bring forth.

I hauehave found in One, such worth:

That (content) I neither care,

What the best before me were:

Nor desire to liue, and see,

Who shall Faire hereafter be.

For, I know the hand of Nature,

Will not make a fairer Creature.

Which, because succeeding Dayes,

Shall confesse; and adde their praise,

In approuing, what my tongue,

Ere they had their being, sung.

Once againe, come lend an eare,

And, a Rapture you shall heare,

(Though I tast no Thespian Spring)

Will amaze you, whilst I sing.

I doe feele new Straines inspiring,

And to such braue heights aspiring,

That my Muse will touch a Key,

Higher, then you heard to day.

I hauehave Beauties to vnfold,

That deserue a Penn of Gold.

Sweets, that neuer dream'd of were.

Things vnknowne: and such, as Eare

Neuer heard a Measure sound;

Since the Sunne first ran his Round.

When Apelles limb'd to life,

Loathed Vulcans louely wife.

With such Beauties, he did trim,

Each sweet Feature, and each Limbe▪

And, so curiously did place,

EueryEvery well-becomming Grace.

That twas said, e're he could draw

Such a Peece; he naked saw

Many women in their Prime,

And the fairest of that Time.

From all which, he parts did take,

Which aright disposed, make

Perfect Beautie. So, when you

Know, what I hauehave yet to show:

It will seeme to passe so farre,

Those things which expressed are.

That, you will suppose I'ue beene

Priuiledg'd; where I have seene,

All the Good, that's spread in parts,

Through a thousand womens hearts.

(With their fair'st conditions lye,

Bare, without Hypocrisie)

And, that I, hauehave tooke from thence,

Each dispersed Excellence.

To expresse Her, who hath gained

More, then euer One obtained.

And yet soft, (I feare) in vaine,

I hauehave boasted such a Straine.

Apprehensions euer are

Greater, then expression farre.

And, my stryuing to disclose

What I know; hath made me lose

My Inuentions better part:

And, my Hopes exceed my Art.

Speake I can; yet think I more,

Words compar'd with Thoughts, are poore.

And I find, had I begun,

Such a Straine; it would be done,

When we number all the sands,

Washt ore periur'd Goodwins lands.

For, of things, I should indite;

Which, I know, are infinite.

I doe yeeld, my Thoughts did clime,

Far aboue the powre of Ryme:

And no wonder, it is so;

Since, there is no Art can show;

Red in Roses, white in Snow;

Nor expresse how they doe grow.

Yea, since Bird, Beast, Stone, and Tree,

(That inferior Creatures be)

Beauties hauehave, which we confesse,

Lines vnable to expresse:

They more hardly can enroule,

Those, that doe adorne a Soule.

But, suppose my Measures could,

Reach the height, I thought they would.

Now, relate, I would not tho;

What did swell within me so.

For, if I should all discrie,

You would know asmuch as I:

And those Clownes, the Muses hate,

Would of things aboue them prate.

Or, with their prophaning eies,

Come to view those Misteries,

Whereof, (since they disesteem'd them)

Heauen, hath vnworthy deemd them.

And beside; It seemes to me,

That your eares nigh tired be.

… perceiue; the fire that charmeth,

And inspireth me; scarce warmeth

Your chill harts. Nay sure; were I

Melted into Poesie,

… should not a Measure hit,

Though Apollo promted it)

Which should able be to leaue,

That in you, which I conceaue.

You are cold; and here I may

Wast my vitall heat away,

E're you will be moou'd so much,

As to feele one perfect touch

Of those Swee…s, which yet conceal'd

Swell my brest, to be reueal'd.

Now, my Words, I therefore cease:

That, my mounting Thoughts, in peace,

May alone, those pleasures share,

Whereof, Lines vnworthy are.

And so, you an end doe see

Of my Song; though long it be.

NO sooner had the Shepheard Philaret,

To this Description his last period set:

But, instantly, descending from a Wood,

(Which, on a rising ground, adioyning stood)

A troupe of Satyrs to the view of all,

Came dauncing of a new-deuised Brall.

The Measures they did pase, by Him, were taught th…

Who, to so rare a gentlenesse had brought them,

That he, had learnd their rudenesse an obseruing,

Of such respect vntounto the well-deseruing,

As they became to no men else a terrour,

But such, as did persist in wilfull errour:

And they, the Ladies made no whit affeard,

Though since that time they some great men hauehave scard.

Their Dance, the W…ipping of Abuse they nam'd;

And, though the Shepherd since that, hath bin blam'd,

Yet, now tis daily seene in eueryevery towne;

And ther's no Countrey-Dance thats better knowne:

Nor, that hath gain'd a greater commendation,

…Mongst those that louelove an honest recreation.

This Scene presented; from a Groue was heard,

A set of Viols; and, there was prepar'd

A Countrey Banquet, which this Shepheard made,

To entertaine the Ladies, in the shade.

And tis supposd, his Song prolonged was

Of purpose, that it might be brought to passe.

…o well it was performd, that each one deem'd,

The Banquet might the Citie hauehave beseem'd.

Yet, better was their Welcome then their Fare:

Which they perceiued, and the merrier were.

One Beautie tho, there sate amongst the rest;

That lookt as sad, as if her heart opprest

With LoueLove had bene. Whom Philaret beholding,

…it so demurely, and her Armes enfolding.

Lady (quoth he) am I, or this poore cheere,

…he cause that you so melancholy are?

…or, if the Obiect of your thoughts be higher,

…t fits nor me to know them; nor enquire.

… if from me it commeth, that offends,

… seeke the Cause, that I may make amends.

Kind Swaine (said she) it is nor so, nor so.

No fault in you, nor in your Cheere I know.

Nor doe I thinke there is a Thought in me;

That can too worthy of your knowledge be.

Nor hauehave I, many a day, more pleasure had,

Then here I find; though I hauehave seemed sad.

My hart, is sometime heauy, when I smile;

And when I greeue, I often sing the while.

Nor is it sadnesse, that doth me possesse,

But, rather, musing with much seriousnesse,

VponUpon that multitude of sighs and teares;

With those innumerable doubts and feares:

Through which, you passed▪ ere you could acquire▪

A setled Hope of gaining your Desire.

For, you dar…d louelove a Nymph, so great, and faire,

As might hauehave brought a Prince vntounto Dispaire.

And sure, the excellencie of your Passions,

Did then produce as excellent expressions.

If therefore, Me, the sute may well become;

And, if to you it be not wearisome:

In name of all these Ladies, I entreat,

That, one of those sad Straines you would repeate,

Which you composd; when greatest discontent

Vnsought-for helpe, to your Inuention lent.

Fayre Nymph (said Philarer) I will doe so.

For, though your Shepheard, doth no Courtship know

He hath Humanitie. And, what's in me

To doe you Seruice, may commanded be.

So, taking downe a Lute, that neere him hung,

He gaue't his Boy, who plaid; whilst this, he sung.

Ah me!

Am I the Swaine,

That late from sorrow free,

Did all the cares on earth disdaine?

And still vntoucht, as at some safer Games,

Plaid with the burning coals of LoueLove, & Beautis flames?

Wast I, could diue, & soūd each passions secret depth at will;

And, frō those huge ouerwhelmings, rise, by help of Reason stil?

And am I now, oh heauens! for trying this in vaine,

So sunke, that I shall neuer rise againe?

Then let Dispaire, set Sorrows string,

For Strains that dolefulst be.

And I will sing,

Ah me.

But why,

Oh fatall Time!

Dost thou constraine that I,

Should perish, in my youths sweet prime?

I, but a while agoe (you cruell Powers)

Inspight of Fortune, cropt contentmēts sweetest flowers.

And yet, vnscorned, serue a gentle Nymph, the fairest Shee,

That euer was belou'd of Man, or Eyes did euer see.

Yea, one, whose tender heart, would rue for my distresse;

Yet I, poore I; must perish nay-the lesse.

And (which much more augmēts my care)

Vnmoaned I must dye:

And, no man er'e,

Kn…w why.

Thy leaue,

My dying Song,

Yet take, ere griefe bereaue,

The breath which I enioy too long.

Tel thou that Fair-one this; my soul prefers,

Her louelove aboue my life, and that I died hers:

And let Him be, for euermore, to her remembrance deare,

Who lou'd the very thought of Her, whilst he remained here.

And now, farewell thou Place, of my vnhappy birth;

Where once I breathd the sweetest aire on earth.

Since me, my wonted ioyes forsake;

And all my trust deceiue:

Of all, I take

My leaue.

Farewell,

Sweet Groues to you:

You Hils, that highest dwell;

And all you humble Vales, adue.

You wanton Brookes, and solitary Rockes,

My deare companions all, and you, my tender flockes.

Forevvell my Pipe, and all these pleasing Songs, vvhose mouing straines

Delighted once the fairest Nymphes, that daunce vponupon the Plaines.

You Discontents (whose deep, & ouer deadly smart,

HaueHave, without pitie, broke the truest heart)

Sighs, Teares, and eueryevery sad annoy,

That erst did with me dwell,

And all others Ioy,

Farewell.

Adue,

Faire Shepherdesses:

Let Garlands of sad Yewe,

Adorne your daintie golden Tresses.

I, that loud you; and often with my Quill,

Made musick that delighted Fountain Groue, & Hill:

I, whom you loued so; and with a sweet and chast embrace,

(Yea, with a thousand rarer fauors) would vouchsaf to grace.

I, now must leaue you all alone, of LoueLove to plaine:

And neuer Pipe, nor neuer Sing againe.

I must, for euermore, bee gone;

And therefore, bid I you,

And eueryevery one,

Adue.

I dye!

For oh, I feele

Deaths horrors, drawing nie;

And all this frame of Nature, reele.

My hopelesse heart, dispairing of reliefe,

Sinks vnderneath the heauy weight of saddest griefe.

Which, hath so ruthles torn, so rackt, (o torturd' eueryevery vaine;

All comfort comes too late, to hauehave it euer cur'd againe.

My swimming head, begins to dance Deaths giddy round.

A shuddering chilnes doth each sence confound:

Benum'd, is my cold-sweating brow;

A dimnesse shuts my eye;

And now, oh now,

I die.

SO mouingly, these Lines He did expresse,

And, to a Tune so full of heauinesse,

As if indeed, his purpose had bin past,

To liue no longer then the Song did last.

Which in the Nymphs, such tender passion bred.

That some of them, did teares of pitty shed.

This, she perceiuing, who first craud the Song;

Shepheard she said; although it be no wrong,

Nor griefe to you, those passions to recall,

Which heretofore you hauehave beene paind withall,

But Comforts rather; since they now, are ouer,

And you (it seemeth) an enioying Louer.

Yet, some young Nymphs among vsus I doe see,

Who so much mooued with your passions be:

That if, my aime, I taken hauehave aright,

Their thoughts wil hardly, let them sleepe to night.

I dare not therefore, beg of you againe,

To sing another of the selfesame Straine:

For feare, it breed within them, more vnrest,

Then womens weakenesses, can well disgest.

Yet, in your Measures, such content you hauehave;

That, one Song more I will presume to craue.

And, if your Memorie preserues of those,

Which you of your Affections did compose,

Before you saw this Mistresse: Let vsus heare,

What kind of passions, then, within you were.

To which request, he instantly obaid;

And, this ensuing Song, both sung and plaid.