High way, since you my chiefe Pernassus be, And that my Muse, to some eares not vnsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses feete More oft then to a chamber-melodie....
Now that of absence the most irksom night With darkest shade doth ouercome my day; Since Stellaes eyes, wont to giue me my day, Leauing my hemisphere, leaue me in night;...
I see the house, (my heart thy selfe containe!) Beware full sailes drowne not thy tottring barge, Least ioy, by nature apt sprites to enlarge, Thee to thy wracke beyond thy limits straine;...
Alas, whence came this change of lookes? If I Haue chang'd desert, let mine owne conscience be A still-felt plague to selfe-condemning mee; Let woe gripe on my heart, shame loade mine eye:...
When I was forst from Stella euer deere, Stella, food of my thoughts, hart of my hart; Stella, whose eyes make all my tempests cleere, By Stellas lawes of duetie to depart;...
Out, traytor Absence, dar'st thou counsell me From my deare captainesse to run away, Because in braue array heere marcheth she, That, to win mee, oft shewes a present pay?...
It is most true that eyes are form'd to serue The inward light, and that the heauenly part Ought to be King, from whose rules who do swerue, Rebels to nature, striue for their owne smart....
Some louers speake, when they their Muses entertaine, Of hopes begot by feare, of wot not what desires, Of force of heau'nly beames infusing hellish paine,...
When Nature made her chief worke, Stellas eyes, In colour blacke why wrapt she beames so bright? Would she in beamy blacke, like Painter wise, Frame daintiest lustre, mixt of shades and light?...
Loue, borne in Greece, of late fled from his natiue place, Forc't, by a tedious proof, that Turkish hardned heart Is not fit mark to pierce with his fine-pointed dart,...
Reason, in faith thou art well seru'd that still Wouldst brabbling be with Sense and Loue in me; I rather wisht thee clime the Muses hill; Or reach the fruite of Natures choycest tree;...
Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke fame, Who seeke, who hope, who loue, who liue but thee; Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history: If thou praise not, all other praise is shame....
Stella, while now, by Honours cruell might, I am from you, light of my life, misled, And whiles, faire you, my sunne, thus ouerspred With Absence vaile, I liue in Sorrowes night;...
Be your words made, good Sir, of Indian ware, That you allow me them by so small rate? Or do you curtted Spartanes imitate? Or do you meane my tender eares to spare, That to my questions you so totall are?...
O fate, O fault, O curse, child of my blisse! What sobs can giue words grace my griefe to show? What inke is blacke inough to paint my woe? Through me (wretch me) euen Stella vexed is....
Griefe, find the words; for thou hast made my braine So darke with misty vapuors, which arise From out thy heauy mould, that inbent eyes Can scarce discerne the shape of mine owne paine....
When far-spent Night perswades each mortall eye, To whome nor Art nor Nature graunteth light, To lay his then marke-wanting shafts of sight, Clos'd with their quiuers, in Sleeps armory;...
Yet sighes, deare sighs, indeede true friends you are, That do not leaue your best friend at the wurst, But, as you with my breast I oft haue nurst, So, gratefull now, you waite vpon my care....
Thought, with good cause thou lik'st so well the night, Since kind or chance giues both one liuerie, Both sadly blacke, both blackly darkned be; Night bard from Sunne, thou from thy owne sunlight;...
Dian, that faine would cheare her friend the Night, Shewes her oft, at the full, her fairest face, Bringing with her those starry Nymphs, whose chace From heau'nly standing hits each mortall wight....