English

Love butt a phantesie light, and vaine
Fluttering butt in poorest braine,
Birds in chimnies make a thunder
Putting silly soules in wounder
Soe doth this love, this all commaunder
To a weake poore understander;

2

Slight him, and hee'le your servant bee,
Adore him, you his slave must bee,
Scorne him, O how hee will pray you,
Please him, and hee'lle sure beetray you,
Lett nott his faulshood bee esteemed
Least your self bee disesteemed.

3

Crush nott your witts to place him high,

Beehold this sacred fire
In waters curstest ire
Remaines in mee
Desdaining change to see
As hee makes waters touch
His prowd inclosing my desire
And in his bosome keeps my fire
While I lament too much,

2

This lampe inflamed with love
Consumes nott yett doth move
And spends the oyle
Soe doe I waste in toile
To clime to honors high
Which with water, and the time
Doth the flame make higher clime
And soe I may rise nigh;

1

Fierce love, alas yett lett mee rest,
Beeholde my boyling brest:
Lett mee butt slumber, if nott sleepe
Continually to weepe
Is too great a smart
To a hart
Transform'd like Niobe to watry powers
Telling howers
In drops of my misfortunes arte;

2

Cruell, alas, why doe thos eyes
Rule of the heavenly skies
Joye in my ruin? My poore streames
Flumes can nott coole your beames
For loves sacred fire
Must aspire
Transcendant to the highest powers
Telling howers

1

Were ever eyes of such devinitie
Devine? Noe they are of the Gods
And soe have ods,
Of the Gods? Noe, more of Eternitie;
They are blew, sure they are then heavens sky
Firmly
Kings they rule and commaund,
Motives of government doe ly
To their imply
Readely
And soe att mercy stand,

2

Bee they nott two suns, most shiningly
Beaming? Noe they are meators rare
Without compare,
Meators noe? Thunderbolts killingly
Were they of Gods, they would deale beningly
Gently

1

This is Honor's holly day
Now sheapheard swaines, neatheards play
Cupid wills itt soe:
Kings, and princes come alonge
You shall safely pass from wronge
Desire was your foe,

2

Fond desire is now layd waste
Truth of love in his stead plaste
Honor guides you now,
'T'is true Cupid was desire,
Fondly using wanton fire
Therfor thus doth bowe,

3

Love's nott Love, that vainely flings
Like a harmfull waspe that stings
Therin I did miss
Desire should nott bee stil'd love

1

Have I lost my liberty,
And my selfe, and all, for thee
O Love?
Yet wilt thou no favour give
In my losse thy blame will live;
Alas remove.
2

Pitie claimes a just reward,
But proud thoughts are thy best guard
Once smile:
Glory tis to save a life
When deceivers are in strife
Which to beguile.

1.

A sheapherd who noe care did take
Of aught butt of his flock
Whose thoughts noe pride cowld higher make
Then to maintaine his stock,
Whose sheepe his love was, and his care,
Theyr good his best delight,
The lambs his joye, theyr sport his fare,
His pleasure was theyr sight,

2.

Till love, an envier of mans blis

Egypts Pyramids inclose their Kings,
But this farr braver, nobler things;
Vertue, Beauty, Love, Faith, all heere lye
Kept in Myras Tombe, shut from eye:
The Phoenix dyes to raise another faire,
Borne of her ashes, to be heire;
So this sweete Place may claime that right in woe,
Since heere she lyes, Heaven willing so.

Love farewell I now discover
Thee a Tyrant o're a lover,
All thy promis'd sweets prove crosses,
Thy rewards are only losses.

A pritty thing I did deeme thee,
Innocent, and mild esteeme thee,
But I find thee as curst matter
As a swelling high wrought water.

Cupids name a pleasant folly
Hath beguiled hearts most holly,

1.

Deare eyes farewell, my Sunne once, now my end,
While your kinde willing grace I felt, all joy
In soule I knew withdrawne, you now destroy
The house that being gave to loves best friend.

You now alas to other objects bend
That warmth of blisse which best delights enjoy,
Striving to win an oft won idle toy,