Must I needes write, who's hee that can refuse, He wants a minde, for her that hath no Muse, The thought of her doth heau'nly rage inspire, Next powerfull, to those clouen tongues of fire....
Douer, to doe thee Right, who will not striue, That dost in these dull yron Times reuiue The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee?...
The Ryme nor marres, nor makes, Nor addeth it, nor takes, From that which we propose; Things imaginarie Doe so strangely varie, That quickly we them lose.
Like as a man, on some aduenture bound His honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse, T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd; Some venture more, and some aduenture lesse,...
Such men as hold intelligence with Letters, And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse, As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters, If with the Muses they will haue commerce:...
In new attire (and put most neatly on) Thou Murray mak'st thy passionate Queene apeare, As when she sat on the Numidian throne, Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were....
I ever love where never hope appears, Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care, And my life's hope would die but for despair; My never certain joy breeds ever certain fears....
My dearely loued friend how oft haue we, In winter evenings (meaning to be free,) To some well-chosen place vs'd to retire; And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire,...
Vovchsafe to grace these rude vnpolish'd rymes, Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night, And, come abroad now in these glorious tymes, Can hardly brook the purenes of the light....
Could there be words found to expresse my losse, There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse Might be sustained, and that wretched I Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die...
Accursed Death, what neede was there at all Of thee, or who to councell thee did call; The subiect whereupon these lines I spend For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end...
Canst thou depart and be forgotten so, STANHOPE thou canst not, no deare STANHOPE, no: But in despight of death the world shall see, That Muse which so much graced was by thee...
I many a time haue greatly marueil'd, why Men say, their friends depart when as they die, How well that word, a dying, doth expresse, I did not know (I freely must confesse,)...
Light Sonnets hence, and to loose Louers flie, And mournfull Maydens sing an Elegie On those three SHEFFIELDS, ouer-whelm'd with waues, Whose losse the teares of all the Muses craues;...