Fair-Virtue the Mistress of Philarete, Poem · Floating text 4
Sonnet.
LOrdly Gallants, tell mee this,
(Though my safe content you weigh not)
In your Greatnesse what one blisse,
HaueHave you gain'd, that I enioy not?
You hauehave Honors, you hauehave Wealth,
I hauehave Peace, and I hauehave Health:
All the day, I merry make,
And, at night, no care I take.
Bound to none, my Fortunes be;
This, or that mans fall, I feare not:
Him I louelove, that loueth me;
For the rest, a pinne I care not.
You are sad, when others chafe,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I, that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weepe, as pleaseth me.
You may boast of fauours showne,
Where your seruice is applied▪
But, my pleasures are mine owne,
And to no mans humours tyed.
You oft flatter, soothe, and faine,
I, such basenesse doe disdaine:
And to none, be slaue I would,
Though my fetters might be gold.
By great Titles, some beleeue,
Highest honours are attained;
And yet Kings hauehave power to giuegive,
To their Fools, what these hauehave gained.
Where they fauour, there they may,
All their Names of Honour lay:
But, I looke not, rais'd to be,
Till mine owne wing, carrie me.
Seeke to raise your Titles higher,
They are Toyes not worth my sorrow:
Those that we to day admire,
Prooue the Ages scorne to morrow.
Take your Honors; let me find,
Virtue, in a free-borne Mind:
This, the greatest Kings that be,
Cannot giuegive, nor take from me.
Though I vainly doe not vaunt,
Large demesnes, to feed my pleasure:
I hauehave fauours where you want,
That would buy respect with treasure.
You hauehave lands lie here, and there;
But my wealth is eueryevery where:
And, this, addeth to my store:
Fortune, cannot make me poore.
Say, you purchase with your pelfe,
Some respect, where you importune.
Those may louelove me for my selfe,
That regard you for your Fortune.
Rich, or borne of high degree,
Fooles, as well as you may bee:
But, that …eace, in which I liue,
No Discent, nor Wealth can giuegive.
If you boast, that you may gaine,
The respect of high-borne Beauties:
Know, I neuer wooed in vaine,
Nor preferred scorned Duties.
Shee I louelove, hath all delight;
Rosie-red, with Lillie-white:
And, who er'e your Mistresse be,
Flesh and Blood as good as Shee.
Note, of Me, was neuer tooke,
For my Woman-like perfections:
But, so like a man, I looke,
It hath gaind me best Affections.
For my louelove, as many showers
HaueHave been wept, as hauehave for yours.
And, yet none doth me condemne
For Abuse, or scorning them.
Though of Dainties, you hauehave store,
To delight a choyser Pallat:
Yet your taste is pleas'd no more,
Then is mine in one poore Sallat.
You to please your Senses, feed;
But, I eat, good Blood to breed.
And am most delighted than,
When I spend it like a man.
Though you Lord it ouer me,
You in vaine thereof hauehave braued:
For, those Lusts my Seruants be,
Whereunto your minds are slaued.
To your selues you wise appeare:
But alas, deceiu'd you are.
You doe foolish me esteeme,
And are that, which I doe seeme.
When your faults I open lay,
You are moou'd, and madd with vexing;
But, you ne're could doe or say,
Ought to driue me to perplexing.
Therefore, my despised power
Greater is, by farre, then your.
And, what er'e you thinke of me,
In your mindes, you poorer be.
You are pleased, more or lesse,
As men well or ill report you;
And, shew discontentednesse,
When the Times forbeare to court you.
That, in which my pleasures be,
No man can diuide from me.
And, my Care, it addes not to
What-so, others say, or doe.
Be not proud, because you view,
You by thousands are attended:
For alas, it is not You,
But your Fortune, tha's be-friended.
Where I show of louelove hauehave go…,
Such a danger feare I not.
Since, they nought can seeke of me;
But, for louelove, belou'd to be.
When your Hearts hauehave eueryevery thing,
You, are pleasantly disposed:
But, I can both laugh and sing,
Though my Foes hauehave me enclosed.
Yea, when dangers …oe doe hemm,
I delight in scorning them,
More then you, in your renowne;
Or a King can in his Crowne.
You doe brauely domineere,
Whilst the Sunne vponupon you shineth.
Yet, if any storme appeare,
Basely then, your mind declineth.
But, or shine, or raine, or Blow,
I, my Resolutions know.
Liuing, Dying, Thrall, or Free,
At one height my Mind shall be.
When in thraldome, I hauehave laine,
Me, not worth your thought you prized.
But, your malice was in vaine,
For, your fauours, I despised.
And, how ere you value me,
I, with praise, shall thought on be;
VVhen the world esteemes you not,
And your Names shall be forgot.
In these thoughts my riches are,
Now, though poore or meane you deeme me;
I am pleasd, and doe not care,
How the Times, or you esteeme me.
For, these Toyes that make you gay,
Are but Play-games for a day.
And, when Nature craues her due;
I, as braue shall be, as you,
HEre Philaret did giuegive his Song an ending,
To which the Nymphs, so seriously attending,
About him sate; as if they had supposed,
He still had somewhat more, to be disclosed.
And, well they knew not; whether did belong,
Most praise vntounto the Shepheard, or his Song.
For, though (they must confesse) they often heare,
Those Layes, which much more deeply learned are:
Yet, when they well considerd of the Place,
With how vnlikely (in their thought) it was,
To giuegive them hope of hearing such a Straine;
Or, that so young, and so obscure a Swaine,
Should, such a matchlesse Beauties fauour get,
And know her worth so well, to sing of it.
They wondred at it. And some thus surmizd,
That Hee a greater man was, so disguisd:
Or else, that Shee, whom he so much had praisd
Some Goddesse was: that those his Measures raisd,
Of purpose, to that rare-attained height,
In Enui's and presuming Art's despight.
But, whilst they musing, with thēselues, bethought
Which way, out of this Shepheard to hauehave wrought,
What Nymph this Fair-one was; and where she liu'd.
Loe, at that very instant there arriu'd
Three men, that by their Habits Courtiers seemd:
For (though obscure) by some he is esteemd
Among the greatest: who do not contemne
In his retyred walkes, to visit him.
And there they tast those pleasures of the mind,
Which they, can nor in Court, nor Citie find.
Some news or message, these new guests had broght him,
And, to make hast away (it seemes) besought him.
For, instantly he rose: And that his nurture,
Might not be taxed by a rude departure,
Himselfe excusing, he those Nymphs did pray:
His noble Friends might bring them on their way:
Who, as it seemes (he said) were therefore come;
That they might wait vponupon them to their home.
So, with their fauour, he departed thence:
And (as they thought) to meet her Excellence,
Of whom he sung. Yet many deeme that this,
But an Idea of a MISTRESSE is.
Because to none, he yet had daind the telling,
Her proper Name; nor shown her place of Dwelling.
When he was gone: a Lady from among
Those Nymphs; tooke vp his Lute, & sung this Song.