they be.

His rudeness so with his authoriz'd youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kind of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep:
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will:

That he did in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted:
Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted;
And dialogu'd for him what he would say,
Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills
obey.

His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongu'd he was, and thereof free; Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,

'But, ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent

When winds breathe sweet, unruly though The destin'd ill she must herself assay?

Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-pass'd perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

'Many there were that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in the imagination set

The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought
assign'd;

And labouring in more pleasures to bestow
them

Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.

Well could he ride, and often men would say "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,

"

So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart.
My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,
And was my own fee-simple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserv'd the stalk and gave him all my flower.

Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;
Finding myself in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I mine honour shielded.
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the
foil

Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

me

Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood;
Effects of terror and dear modesty,
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

"Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me,

"How mighty then you are, O! hear me tell:
The broken bosoms that to me belong

Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent Have emptied all their fountains in my well,
And mine I pour your ocean all among:
I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong.
Must for your victory us all congest,
As compound love to physic your cold breast.

"Lo! all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensiv'd and subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charg'd me that I hoard them not,
But yield them up where I myself must render,
That is, to you, my origin and ender;

For these, of force, must your oblations be,
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.

"O pardon me, in that my boast is true;
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly;
Religious love put out religion's eye:
Not to be tempted, would she be immur'd,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procur'd.

"My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,
Who, disciplin'd, ay, dieted in grace,
Believ'd her eyes when they to assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place.
O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.

And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.

"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine;
And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you made 'gainst mite
Lending soft audience to my sweet design,
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth."

This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With brinish current downward flow'd apace. O! how the channel to the stream gave grace! Who glaz'd with crystal gate the glowing roses That flame through water which their hue e

O father! what a hell of witchcraft lies

That not a heart which in his level came In the small orb of one particular tear,

Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, But with the inundation of the eyes

Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; What rocky heart to water will not wear? And, veil'd in them, did win whom he would What breast so cold that is not warmed here?

maim : O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Against the thing he sought he would exclaim ; Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,

He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity. 'For, lo ! his passion, but an art of craft, Even there resolv'd my reason into tears ; • Thus merely with the garment of a Grace There my white stole of chastity I daff'd, The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd ; Shook off my sober guards and civil fears ; That the unexperient gave the tempter place, Appear to him, as he to me appears,

Which like a cherubin above them hover'd. All melting ; though our drops this difference Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd ! bore,

Ay me! I fell ; and yet do question make His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. What I should do again for such a sake. * In him a plenitude of subtle matter,

"O! that infected moisture of his eye, Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, O! that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd, Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, 0! that forc'd thunder from his heart did fiv, Or swounding paleness; and he takes and leaves, O! that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd, In either's aptness, as it best deceives,

O! all that borrow'd motion seeming ow'd, To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd, Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows: And new pervert a reconciled maid.'

THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.

I.

III.

For being both to me, both to each friend, When my love swears that she is made of truth, I guess one angel in another's hell.

The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, I do believe her, though I know she lies,

Till my bad angel fire my good one out. That she might think me some untutor'a

youth, Unskilful in the world's false forgeries. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, Although I know my years be past the best, 'Gainst whom the world could not hold arguI smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,

ment, Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest. Persuade my heart to this false perjury? But wherefore says my love that she is young ? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. And wherefore say not I that I am old ? A woman I forswore ; but I will prove, 0! love's best habit is a soothing tongue, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : And age, in love, loves not to have years told. My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. me,

My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is; Since that our faults in love thus smother'd Then thou, fair son, that on this earth dost be.

shine,
Exbale this vapour vow; in thee it is :

If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

If by me broke, what fool is not so wise Which like two spirits do suggest me still ; To break an oath, to win a paradise ? The better angel is a man, right fair, The worser spirit a woman, colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook And would corrupt a saint to be a devil, With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, Wooing his purity with her fair pride :

Did court the lad with many a lovely look, And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Such looks as none could look but beauty's Suspect I may, but not directly tell;

II.

IV.

VIII.

She told him stories to delight his ear;

Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd, She show'd him favours to allure his eye; Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearTo win his heart, she touch'd him here and ing! there :

How many tales to please me bath she coin'd, Touches so soft still conquer chastity.

Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! But whether unripe years did want conceit, Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,

Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,

jestings. But smile and jest at every gentle offer :

straw with fire Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and She burn'd with love, as

flameth; toward : He rose and ran away; ah! fool too froward. She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out

burneth ;

She fram'd the love, and yet she foild the V.

framing : If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. love?

Was this a lover, or a lecher whether! O! never faith could hold, if not to beauty

Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. vow'd: Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll con

stant prove; Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like If music and sweet poetry agree, osiers bow'd.

As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and

me, eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art can

Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. comprehend.

Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; suffice;

Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such Well learned is that tongue that well can thee As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.

Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound commend; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes ; wonder ;

And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd Which is to me soine praise, that I thy parts

Whenas himself to singing he betakes. admire:

One god is god of both, as poets feign ; Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, the voice his

One knight loves both, and both in thee dreadful thunder,

remain. Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet

fire. Celestial as thou art, 0! do not love that fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,

wrong, To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, tongue.

For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill :

Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for Forbade the boy he should not pass those shade,

grounds : When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,

Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth A longing tarriance for Adonis made

Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, Under an osier growing by a brook,

Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! A brook where Adon us'd to cool his spleen: See, in my thigh,' quoth she, “here was the sore.' Hot was the day ; she hotter that did look She showed hers; he saw more wounds than For his approach, that often there had been.

one, Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,

And blushing fled, and left her all alone. And stood stark naked on the brook's green

brim : The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, Yet not so wistly as this queen on him:

Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon He, spring her, bonnc'd in, whereas he stood:

vaded, 0 Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood !' Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!

Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded ;
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp

sting!
Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle ;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty ;

Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle ;

And falls, through wind, before the fall shouli

be. Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty : 1 lily pale, with damask dve to grace her, I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have ;

pe fairer, nor none falser to deface her. For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:

IX.

*

VI.

X.

VII.

And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why I craved nothing of thee still:

O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

her,

And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.

"

XI.

XIV.

Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:

She told the youngling how god Mars did try Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:

She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
'Farewell,' quoth she, 'and come again to-
morrow :'

Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.

Even thus,' quoth she, the war like god embrac'd me,'

And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
"Even thus,' quoth she, 'the war-like god un-
lac'd me,'

As if the boy should use like loving charms.
Even thus, quoth she, 'he seized on my lips,'
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I ran away.

XII.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn, age like winter.
weather;

And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,

So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether :
"T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
'T may be, again to make me wander thither:
'Wander,' a word for shadows like thyself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east ; My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise

Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,

While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;