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....
Ah, bed! the field where Ioyes peace some do see, The field where all my thoughts to warre be train'd, How is thy grace by my strange fortune strain'd! How thy lee-shores by my sighes stormed be!...
In truth, O Loue, with what a boyish kind Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways, That when the heau'n to thee his best displayes, Yet of that best thou leau'st the best behinde!...
Cupid, because thou shin'st in Stellaes eyes That from her locks thy day-nets none scapes free That those lips sweld so full of thee they be That her sweet breath makes oft thy flames to rise...
Phoebus was iudge betweene Ioue, Mars, and Loue, Of those three gods, whose armes the fairest were. Ioues golden shield did sable eagles beare, Whose talons held young Ganimed aboue:...
Alas, haue I not pain enough, my friend, Vpon whose breast a fiecer Gripe doth tire Than did on him who first stale down the fire, While Loue on me doth all his quiuer spend,...
On Cupids bowe how are my heart-strings bent, That see my wracke, and yet embrace the same! When most I glory, then I feele most shame; I willing run, yet while I run repent;...
As good to write, as for to lie and grone. O Stella deare, how much thy powre hath wrought, That hast my mind (now of the basest) brought My still-kept course, while others sleepe, to mone!...
Hauing this day my horse, my hand, my launce Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize, Both by the iudgement of the English eyes And of some sent from that sweet enemy Fraunce;...
O eyes, which do the spheres of beauty moue; Whose beames be ioyes, whose ioyes all vertues be, Who, while they make Loue conquer, conquer Loue; The schooles where Venus hath learnd chastitie:...