Thomas Watson: The Hekatompathia (1582) FULL TEXT


Thomas Watson: The Hekatompathia (1582)

Catalogue Number: 9

Type: Love

Publication: The hekatompathia or Passionate centurie of loue diuided into two parts: whereof, the first expresseth the authors sufferance in loue: the latter, his long farewell to loue and all his tyrannie. Composed by Thomas Watson Gentleman; and published at the request of certaine gentlemen his very frendes.  120 p.

Publication info: London: Imprinted by Iohn Wolfe for Gabriell Cawood, dwellinge in Paules Churchyard at the signe of the Holy Ghost

Year of publication: 1582

Sonnets numbered? Yes

Sonnets entitled? ‘Passion’

Introductory sonnets: No

Number of sonnets in sequence: 100

Lines per sonnet: 18

Durable EEBO link


The Author in this Passion taketh but occasion to open his estate in loue; the miserable accidentes whereof are sufficiently described hereafter in the copious varietie of his deuises: & whereas in this Sonnet he seemeth one while to despaire, and yet by & by after to haue some hope of good successe, the contrarietie ought not to offend, if the nature & true qualitie of a loue passion bee well conside∣red. And where he mentioneth that once hee scor∣ned loue, hee alludeth to a peece of worke, whiche he wrote long since, De Remedio Amoris, which he hath lately perfected, to the good likinge of many that haue seene and perused it, though not fully to his owne fancy, which causeth him as yet to kepe it backe from the printe.

WEll fare the life sometimes I ledde ere this,
When yet no downy heare yclad my face:
my heart deuoyde of cares did bath in blisse,
my thoughts were free in euery time & place:
But now (alas) all’s fowle, which then was faire.
My wonted ioyes are turning to despaire.
Where then I liu’d without controule or checke,
An other now is mistris of my minde,
Cupid hath clapt a yoake vpon my necke,
Under whose waighte I hue in seruile kinde:
I now cry creake, that ere I scorned loue,
Whose might is more then other Gods aboue.
I haue assaide by labour to eschewe
What fancy buildes vpon a loue conceite,
But nearthelesse my thought reuiues anew,
Where in fond loue is wrapt, and workes deceite:
Some comfort yet I haue to liue her thrall,
In whome as yet I find no fault at all.

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In this passion the Author describeth in how pitious a case the hart of a louer is, being (as he fayneth heere) seperated from his owne body, & remoued into a darksome and solitarie wildernes of woes. The cōueyance of his inuention is plaine & plea∣sant enough of it selfe, and therefore needeth the lesse annotation before it.

MY harte is sett him downe twixt hope & feares
Upon the stonie banke of high desire,
To view his own made flud of blubberig teares
Whose waues are bitter salt, and hote as fire:
There blowes no blast of wind but ghostly grones
Nor waues make other noyse then pitious moanes
As life were spent he waiteth Charons boate,
And thinkes he dwells on side of Stigian lake:
But blacke despaire some times with open throate,
Or spightfull Ielousie doth cause him quake,
With howlinge shrikes on him they call and crie
That he as yet shall nether liue nor die:
Thus voyde of helpe he sittes in heauie case,
And wanteth voyce to make his iust complaint.
No flowr but Hiacynth in all the place,
No sunne comes there, nor any heau’nly sainte,
But onely shee, which in him selfe remaines,
And ioyes her ease though he abound in paines.

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This passion is all framed in manner of a dialogue, wherein the Author talketh with his owne heart, beeing nowe through the commandement and force of loue separated from his bodie miracu∣louslie, and against nature, to follow his mistres, in hope, by long attendance vpon her, to pur∣chase in the end her loue and fauour, and by that meanes to make him elfe all one with her owne hearte.

SPeake gentle heart, where is thy dwelling place?
Wt her, whose birth the heauēs thēselues haue blest.
What dost thou there? Somtimes behold her face,
And lodge sometimes within her cristall brest:
She cold, thou hot, how can you then agree?
Not nature now, but loue doth gouerne me.
With her wilt thou remaine, and let mee die?
If I returne, wee both shall die for griefe:
If still thou staye, what good shall growe thereby?
Ile moue her heart to purchase thy reliefe:
What if her heart be hard, & stop his eares?
Ile sigh aloud, & make him soft with teares:
If that preuaile, wilte thou returne from thence?
Not I alone, her heart shall come with mee:
Then will you both liue vnder my defence?
So long as life will let vs both agree:
Why then dispaire, goe packe thee hence away,
I liue in hope to haue a golden daie.

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The chiefe grounde and matter of this Sonnet stan∣deth vppon the rehearsall of such thinges as by reporte of the Poets, are dedicated vnto Venus, whereof the Authour sometime wrote these three Latine verses.

Mons Erycinus, Acidalins sons, alba columba,
Hesperus, ora Pathos, Rosa, Myrtus, & insula Cyprus,
Idaluim{que} nemus; Veneri haec sunt omnia sacra.

And Forcatulus the French Poet wrote vppon the same particulars, but more at large, he beginneth thus,

Est arbor Veneri Myrtus gratisima, flores
Tam Rosa, quam volucres alba columba praeit.
Igniferum coeli prae cunctis diligit astris.
Hesperon, Idalium sapè adit vna memus. &c.
SWéete Venus if as nowe thou stand my friende,
As once thou didst vnto Kinge.*Prias sonne,
My ioyfull muse shall neuer make an end
Of praising thee, and all that thou hast done:
Nor to my peane shall euer cease to write
Of ought, wherin swéete Venus takes delite.
My temples hedged in with Myrtle bowes
Shall set aside Apolloes Lawrell trée,
As did*Anchises sonne, when both his browes
With Myrtle hée beset, to honour thée:
Then will I say, the Rose of flowres is best.
And siluer Dooues for birdes excell the rest.
Ile praise no starre but Hesperus alone,
Nor any hill but Erycinus meunte,
Nor any woodde but I daly alone,
Nor any spring but Acidalian founte,
Nor any land but onely Cyprus shoare,
Nor Gods but Loue, & what would Venus more?

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All this Passion (two verses only excepted) is whol∣ly translated out of Petrarch, where he writeth,

Samor non è, che dunque è quel ch’i sento?*
Ma s’egh è amor, per Dio che cosa, e quale?
Se buona, ond’è l’effetto aspro e mortale?
Seria, ond’è sidolce ogni tormento?

Heerein certaine contrarieties, whiche are incident to him that loueth extrèemelye, are liuely expres∣sed by a Metaphore. And it may be noted, that the Author in his first halfe verse of this translation va∣rieth from that sense, which Chawcer vseth in tran∣slating the selfe same: which he doth vpon no o∣ther warrant then his owne simple priuate opini∣on, which yet he will not greatly stand vpon.

IF’t bée not loue I feele, what is it then?
If loue it bée, what kind a thing is loue?
If good, how chance he hurtes so many men?
If badd, how happ’s that none his hurtes disproue?
If willingly I burne, how chance I waile?
If gainst my will, what sorrow will auaile?
O liuesome death, Oswéete and pleasant ill,
Against my minde how can thy might preuaile?
If I bend backe, and but refraine my will,
If I consent, I doe not well to waile;
And touching him,* whome will hath made a slaue,
The Prouerbe saith of olde, Selfe doe, selfe haue,
Thus béeing tost with windes of sundry sorte
Through daung’rous Seas but in a slender Boat,
With errour stut, and driu’n beside the porte,
Where voide of wisdomes fraight it lies afloate,
I waue in doubt what helpe I shall require,
In Sommer fréeze, in winter burne like fire.

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This passion is a translation into latine of the selfe same sonnet of Petrarch which you red lastly allea∣ged, and commeth somwhat neerer vnto the Ita∣lian phrase thē the English doth. The Author whē he translated it, was not then minded euer to haue imboldned him selfe so farre, as to thrust in foote amongst our english Poets. But beinge busied in translating Petrarch his sonnets into latin new clo∣thed this amōgst many others, which one day may perchance come to light: And because it befit∣teth this place, he is content you suruey it here as a probable signe of his dayly sufferance in loue:

HOc si non sit amor, quod persentisco, quid ergo est?
Si sit amor, tum quid sit amor qualis{que} rogandum:
Si bonus est, vndè effectus producit acerbos?
Sin malus, vnde eius tormentum dulce putatur?
Si{que} volens vror, quae tanti causa doloris?
Sin inuitus amo, quid me lament a iuuabunt?
O laethum viuax, ô delectabile damnum,
Quî sic me superes, tibi si concedere nolim?
t me si patior vinci, cur lugeo victus?
Aduersis rapior ventis, nullo{que} magistr,
Per maris effusi fluctus, in puppe caduca,
Quae vacua ingenio, tanto{que} errore grauata est,
Ipsus vt ignorem de me quid dicere possim:
Erigeo, dum media est aestas; dum brumae, calesco.

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This pàssion of loue is liuely expressed by the Au∣thour, in that he lauishlie praiseth the person and beautifull ornamentes of his loue, one after an other as they lie in order. He partly imitateth here in Aeneas Siluius, who setteth downe the like in de∣scribing Lucretia the loue of Euryalus; & partly he followeth Ariosto cant. 7. where he describeth Al∣cia: & partly borroweth from some others where they describe the famous Helen of Greece: you may therefore, if you please aptlie call this sonnet as a Scholler of good iudgement hath already Christe∣ned it 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

HArke you that list to heare what sainte I serue:
Her yellowe lockes exceede the beaten goulde;
Her sparkeling eies in heau’n a place deserue;
Her forehead high and faire of comely moulde;
Her wordes are musicke all of siluer sounde;
Her wit so sharpe as like can searse be found:
Each eybrowe hanges like Iris in the skies;*
Her Eagles nose is straight of stately frame;
On either cheeke a Rose and Lillie lies;
Her breath is sweete perfume, or hollie flame;
Her lips more red then any Corall stone;
Her necke more white, then aged*Swans y mone;
Her brest transparent is, like Christall rocke;
Her singers long, fit for Apolloes Lute;
Her slipper such as*Momus dare not mocke;
Her vertues all so great as make me mute:
What other partes she hath I neede not say,
Whose face alone is cause of my decaye.

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A laeon for espying Diana as shee bathed her naked, was transformed into a Hart, and sone after torne in pieces by his owne houndes, as Ouid describeth at large lib. 3. Metamorph. And Silius Italicus libr. 12. de bello Punic glaunceth at it in this manner.

Fama est, cum laceris Actaeon flebile membris
Supplicium lueret spectatae in fonte Dianae,
Attonitum nouitate malae fugisse parentem
Per frta Aristaeum. &c.

The Author alluding in al this Passion vnto the fault of Actaeon, and to the hurte, which hee susteined, setteth downe his owne amorous infelicitie; as Ouid did after his banishmente, when in an other sense hee applied this fiction vnto himselfe, being exiled (as it should seeme) for hauing at vnawares taken Caesar in some great fault: for thus hee wri∣teth.

Cur aliquid vidi, cur noxia lumina fci? &c.
Inscius Actaeon vidit sine veste Dianam.
Praeda fuit canibus nec minus ille suis.
A Ctaeon lost in middle of his sport
Both shape and life, for looking but a wry,
Diana was afraid he would report
What secretes he had séene in passing by:
To tell but trueth, the selfe same hurt haue I
By viewing her, for whome I dayly die;
I léese my woonted shape, in that my minde
Doth suffer wracke vpon the stonie rocke
Of her disdaine, who contrary to kinde
Doth beare a brest more harde then any stocke;
And former forme of limmes is changed quite
By cares in loue, and want of due delight.
I léese my life in that each secret thought,
Which I conceiue through wanton fond regard,
Doth make me say, that life auaileth nought
Where seruice cannot haue a due reward:
I dare not name the Nimph that works my smart,
Though loue hath grau’n her name within my hart.

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Clytia (as Perottus witnesseth) was a glorious Nimph, and thereof had her name: for 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 in greeke sig∣nifieth glorie: and therfore she aspired to be the loue of Sol him selfe, who praeferring Leucothoe be∣fore her, she was in short space ouergonne with suche extremitie of care, that by compassion of the Gods shee was transformed into a Marigolde; which is significantlie called Heliotropium, be∣cause euen nowe after change of forme shee still obserueth the rising and going downe of hir belo∣ued the sunne, as Ouid mentioneth,

Illa suum, quamuis radice tenetur,
Vertitur aed Solem,* mutata{que} seruat amorem.

And by this it maie easilie bee ghessed, whie in this passion the Authour compareth him selfe with the Marigold, and his loue vnto the Sunne.

THe Marigold so likes the louely Sunne,
That when he settes the other hides her face,
And whē he ginnes his morning course to ūne,
She spreades abroad, & showes her greatest grace;
so shuts or spreuts my ioy, as doth this flow’re,
when my heesune doth either laugh or lowre.
When shee departes my sight, I die for pame,
In closing vp my hearte with cloudie care;
And yet when once I viewe her face againe,
I streight reuiue, and ioye my wonted fare:
Therewith my heart ofte saies, when all is done,
That heau’n and earth haue not a brighter sunne,
A iealous thought yet puttes my minde in feare,
Lest Ioue him selfe descending from his throne
Shoulde take by stealth and place her in his spheare,
Or in some higher globe to rule alone:
Which if he should, the heau’ns might boast their praye
But I (alas) might curse y dismall day.

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The Authour hath made two or three other passi∣ons vpon this matter that is heere conteined, al∣luding to the losse of his sight and life since the time he first beheald her face, whose loue hath thus bewitched him. But heere hee mentioneth, the blindnesse of Tyresias to proceed of an other cause, then he doth in those his other Sonnettes, And heerein he leaneth not to the opinion of the greater sorte of Poets, but vnto some fewe, after whom Polytian hath written also, as followeth;

Baculum dat deinde petentem
Tyresiaemagni, qui quondam Pallaeda nudam
viaeit, & hoc raptam pnsauit munere lucem.
Suctus in offensos baculo duce tendere gressus
Nec deest ipse sibi, quin sacro instincta furore
Ora moet, tanti{que} parat solaetiae damni.
MYne* eyes dye first, which last enioyed life,
Not hurt by bleared eies, but hurt with light
Of such a blazing starre as kindeleth strife
Within my brest as well by day as night:
And yet no poysned Cockatrice lurk’t there,
Her vertuous beames dissuade such foolish feare.
Besides, I liue as yet; though blinded nowe
Like him, that sawe Mineruaes naked side,
And lost his sight (poore soule) not knowing howe;
Or like to him, whome euill chance betide,
In straying farre to light vpon that place,
Where midst a fount he founde Dianaes grace.
But he alone, who Polyphemus hight,
Trewe patterne was of me and all my woe,
Of all the rest that euer lost their sight:
For being blinde, yet loue possest him so,
That he each how’r on eu’ry dale and hill
Sng songes of loue to*Galataea still.

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In this sonnet is couertly set forth, how pleasaunt a passiō the Author one day enioyed, whē by chance he ouerharde his mistris, whilst she was singinge priuately by her selfe: And sone after into howe sorrowfull a dumpe, or sounden extasie he fell, when vpon the first sight of him she abruptlie fini∣shed her song and melodie.

O Goulden bird and Phenix of our age,
whose sweete records and more thē earthly voice
By wondrous force did then my griefe asswage
When nothing els could make my heart retoyce,
Thy teunes (no doubt) had made a later end,
If thou hadst knowē how much they stood my frēd.
When silence dround the latter warbling neate,
A sudden greife eclypst my former ioye,
My life it selfe in calling Carons boate
Did sigh, and say, that pleasure brought anoy;
And blam’d mine eare for listning to the sound
Of such a songe, as had increast my wound.
My heaute heart remembring what was past
Did sorrowe more then any tounge can tell;
As did the damned soules that stoode agast,
when Orpheus with his wife return’d from hell:
Yet who would think, that Musike which is swete,
In curing paines could cause delites te fleete?

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The subiect of this passion is all one with that, which is next before it: but that the Authour somwhat more highly here extolleth his ladies excellencie, both for the singularitie of her voyce, & her won∣derfull arte in vse & moderation of the same. But moreouer, in this sōnet, the Authour relateth how after the hearing of his mistris sing, his affection towardes her by that meanes was more vehemēt∣ly kindled, then it had bin at any time before.

I Meruaile I, why poets heretofore
Extold*Arions harp, or Mercuries,
Although the one did bring a fishe to shore,
And th’other as a* signe adorn’d the skies.
Yf they with me had heard an Angells voice,
They would vnsay thē selues, and praise my choise.
Not Philomela now deserues the price,
Though sweetely she recount her cause of mone:
Nor Phaebus arte in musicall deuise,
Although his lute and voyce accord in one;
Musicke her self, and all the Muses nine,
For skil or voyce their titles may resigne.
O bitter sweete, or hunny mixt with gall,
My hart is hurt with ouermuch delight,
Mine eares well pleas’d with tunes, yet deafe with all:
Through musicks helpe loue hath increast his might;
I stoppe mine eares as wise Vlisses bad,
But all to late, now loue hath made me mad.

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The Authour descanteth on forwarde vpon the late effect, which the song of his Mistres hath wrought in him, by augmenting the heate of his former loue. And in this passion after he hath set downe some miraculous good effectes of Musicke, hee falleth into question with him selfe, what should be the cause, why the sweete melodie of his Mi∣stres shoulde so much hurte him, contrarie to the kinde and nature of musicall harmonie.

ESclepiad did cure with trumpets sounde
Such men as first had lost their hearing quite:
And many such as in their drinke lay drownd
Damon reui‘d with tunes of graue delight:
And Theophrast whē ought his minde opprest,
Usd musickes helpe 〈◊〉 dring him selfe to rest:
With sounde of harpe Thales did make recure
Of such as lay with pestilence forlorne:
With Organ pipes Xenocrates made pure
Theire wits, whose mindes long Lunacy had worne:
Howe comes it then, that musick in my minde
Enforceth cause of hurt against her kinde?
For since I heard a secret heau’nly song,
Loue hath so wrought by vertue of conceite,
That I shall pine vpon supposed wrong
Unlesse shée yéelde, that did mée such deceit:
O eares now deafe, O wits al drownd in cares,
O heart surprys’d with plagues at vnawares.

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The Authour still pursuing his inuention vpon the song of his Mistres, in the last staffe of this sonnet he falleth into this fiction: that whilest he gree∣delie laied open his eares to the hearing of his Ladies voice, as one more then halfe in a doubt, that Apollo him selfe had beene at hand, Loue e∣spiyng a time of aduantage, transformed him selfe into the substance of aier, and so deceitfullie entered into him with his owne great goodwill and desire, and nowe by mayne force still hol∣deth his possession.

SOme that reporte great Alexanders life,
They say, that harmonie so mou’d his mind,
That oft he roase from meat to warlike strife
At sounde of Trumpe, or noyse of battle kind,
And then, that musickes force of softer vaine
Caus’d him returne frō strokes to meat againe.
And as for me, I thinke it nothing strange,
That musick hauing birth from heau’ns aboue,
By diuers tunes can make the minde to change:
For I my selfe in hearing my sweete Loue,
By vertue of her song both tasted griefe,
And such delight, as yeelded some reliefe.
When first I gan to giue attentiue eare,
Thinking Apolloes voice did haunte the place,
I little thought my Lady had beene there:
But whilest mine eares lay open in this case,
Transform’d to ayre Loue entred with my will,
And nowe perforce doth kéepe possession still.

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Still hee followeth on with further deuise vppon the late Melodie of his Mistres: & in this sonnet doth namelie preferre her before Musicke her selfe, and all the three Graces; affirming, if either he, or els Apollo bee ordeined a iudge to giue sentence of their desertes on either side, that then his Ladie can not faile to beare both pricke and prize a∣waie.

NOwe Musicke hide thy face or blush for shame,
Since thou hast heard hir skill & warbling voice,
Who far béefore thy selfe deseru’s thy name,
And for a Science should bée had in choise:
Or if thou still thy title wilt retame,
Equall hir song with helpe of all thy traine.
But as I déeme, it better were to yéelde
Thy place to her, to whom the price belonges,
Then after strife to léese both fame and field.
For though rude Satyres like of Marsias songes,
And Choridon estéeme his oaten quill:
Compare them with hir voice, and both are ill.
Nay, which is more, bring forth the Graces thrée,
And each of them let sing hir song apart,
And who doth best twill soone appeare by mée,
When she shall make replie which rules my heart:
Or if you néedes will make Apollo iudge,
So sure I am to winne I néede not grudge.

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In this passion the Authour vpon the late sweete song of his Mistres, maketh her his birde; & ther∣withall partlie describeth her worthines, & part∣lie his owne estate. The one parte he sheweth, by the coulour of her feathers, by her statelie minde, and by that souereintie which she hath ouer him: the other, by description of his delight in her companie, and her strangenes, & drawing backe from a dewe acceptance of his seruice.

MY gentle birde, which sung so swéete of late,
Is not like those, that flie about by kind,
Her feathers are of golde, shée wantes a mate,
And knowing wel her worth, is proud of mind:
And wheras sm do keepe their birds in cage,
My bird kéepes mée, & rules me as hir page.
She séedes mine eare with tunes of rare delight,
Mine eye with louing lookes, my heart with ioy,
Wherhence I thinke my seruitude but light,
Although in déede I suffer great annoye:
And (sure) it is but reason, I suppose,
He féele the pricke, that séekes to pluck the Rose.
And who so mad, as woulde not with his will
Leese libertie and life to heare her sing,
Whose voice excels those harmonies that fill
Elisian fieldes, where growes eternall spring?
If mightie Ioue should heare what I haue hard,
She (sure) were his, and all my market marde.

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The Authour not yet hauing forgotten the songe of his mistres, maketh her in this passion a seconde Phoenix, though not of Arabia, and yet no lesse ac∣ceptable to Apollo, then is that bird of Ara∣bia. And the cheife causes why Sol shoulde fa∣uour hir, he accounteth to be these two, hir ex∣cellent beawtie, and hir skill in musike, of which two qualities Sol is well knowen to be an especiall cheife patrone, and sometimes the only author or giuer of the same.

YF Poets haue done well in times long past,
To glose on trifling toyes of little price:
Why should not I presume to fame as fast,
Espying forth a ground of good deuise?
A Sacred Nimph is ground whereon ile write,
The fairest Nimph that euer yet saw light.
And since her song hath fild mine eares with ioye,
Hir vertues pleas’d my minde, hir face mine eye,
I dare affirme what some will thinke a toy,
She Phoenix is, though not of Arabie;
And yet the plumes about hir neck are bright,*
And Sol him selfe in her hath chief delight.
You that will know why Sol afoordes her loue,
Séeke but the cawse why Peakocks draw the place,
Where Iuno sitts; why Venus likes the Doue;
Or why the Owle befitts Mineruaes grace;
Then yf you grudge, that she to Sol belonge,
Marke but hir face, and heare hir skill in songe.

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This sonnet is perfectly patheticall, and consisteth in two principall pointes: wherof the first cōteyneth an accusatiō of Loue for his hurtfull effects & vsu∣all tyrannie; the second part is a sudden recanta∣tion or excuse of the Authors euill words, by cast∣inge the same vpon the necke of his beloued, as being the onely cause of his late frenzy and blas∣pheamous rage so lauishly powred forth in fowle speaches.

LOue is a sowr delight; a sugred greefe;
A liuinge death; an euerdying life;
A breache of Reasons lawe; a secret theefe;
A sea of teares; an euerlasting strife;
A bayte for fooles; a scourge of noble witts;
A Deadly wound; a shotte which euer hitts.
Loue is a blinded God; an angry boye;
A Labyrinth of dowbts; an ydle lust;
A slaue to Beawties will; a witles toy;
A rauening bird; a tyraunt most vniust;
A burning heate; A cold; a flattringe foe;
A priuate hell; a very world of woe.
Yet mightie Loue regard not what I saye,
Which lye in traunce berest of all my witts,
But blame the light that leades me thus astraye,
And makes my tongue blaspheme by frantike fitts:
Yet hurt her not, lest I susteyne the smart,
which am content to lodge her in my heart.

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The Author in this passion reproueth the vsuall de∣scription of loue, which olde Poetes haue so long time embraced: and proueth by probabilities, that he neither is a childe (as they say) nor blinde, nor winged like a birde, nor armed archer like with bowe & arrowes, neither frantike, nor wise, nor yet vncloathed, nor (to conclude) anie God at all. And yet whē he hath said al he can to this end, he cryeth out vpon the secret nature and qualitie of Loue, as being that, whereunto he can by no meanes attaine, although he haue spent a long & tedious course of time in his seruice.

IF Cupid were a childe, as Poets faine,
How comes it then that Mars doth feare his might?
If blind; how chance so many to theire paine,
Whom he hath hitte, can witnesse of his sight?
If he haue wings to flie where thinkes him best,
How happes he lurketh still within my brest?
If bowe and shaftes should be his chiefest tooles,
Why doth he set so many heartes on fire?
If he were madde, how could he further fooles
To whet theire wits, as place and time require?
If wise, how could so many leeze theire wittes,
Or doate through loue, and dye in frantike sittes?
If naked still he wander too and froe,
How doth not Sunne or frost offend his skinne?
If that a God he be, how falles it so,
That all wants end, which he doth once beginne?
O wondrous thing, that I, whom Loue hath spent,
Can scarcely knowe him self, or his intent.

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In this passion the Authour being ioyfull for a kisse, which he had receiued of his Loue, compareth the same vnto that kisse, which sometime Venus be∣stowed vpō Aesculapius, for hauing taken a Bram∣ble out of her foote, which pricked her through the hidden spitefull deceyte of Diana, by whom it was laied in her way, as Strozza writeth. And hee enlargeth his inuention vppon the french prouer∣biall speech, which importeth thus much in effect, that three things proceed from the mouth, which are to be had in high account, Breath, Speech, and Kissing; the first argueth a mans life; the second, his thought; the third and last, his loue.

IN time long past, when in Dianaes chase
A bramble bush prickt Venus in the foote,
Olde Aesculapius healpt her heauie case
Before the hurt had taken any roote:
Wherehence although his beard were crisping hard
She yeelded him a kisse for his rewarde.
My lucke was like to his this other day,
When she, whom I on earth do worship most,
In kissing me vouchsafed thus to say,
Take this for once, and make thereof no bost:
* Forthwith my heart gaue signe of ioy by skippes,
As though our soules had ioynd by ioyning lippes.
And since that time I thought it not amisse
To iudge which were the best of all these three;
Her breath, her speach, or that her daintie kisse,
And (sure) of all the kisse best liked me:
For that was it, which did reuiue my hart
Opprest and almost deade with dayly smart.

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In the first staffe of this passion the Authour imita∣teth Petrarch, Sonetto 211.

Chi vuol veder quantunque può Natura
El ciel tranoi, venga à mirar costei, &c.

And the very like sense hath Seraphine in one of his Strambotti, where he beginneth thus,

Chi vuol eder gran cose altiere & nuoue,
Venga a mirar costei, laquale adoro:
Doue gratia dal ciel continuo pioue. &c.
WHo list to vewe dame Natures cunning skil,
And see what heau’n hath added to the same,
Let him prepare with me to gaze his fill
On her apas, whose gifts exceed y trūp offāe:
But let him come a pase before she flye
From hence, to fixe her seate aboue the skye.
But Iunoes gift she beares a stately grace,
Pallas hath placed skill amdd’st her brest;
Venus her selfe doth dwell within her face;
Alas I faint to thinke of all the rest;
And shall I tell wherewith I most haue warres?
with those her eyes, which are two heau’nly starres
Theire beames drawe forth by great attractiue power
My moistned hart, whose force is yet so small,
That shine they bright, or list they but to lowre,
It scarcely dare behold such lights at all,
* But sobbes, and sighes, and saith I am vndonne;
No bird but Ioues can looke against the sunne.

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The substance of this passion is taken out of Sera∣phine sonetto 127. which beginneth thus.

Quando nascesti amor? quando la terra
Se rinueste di verde e bel colore;
Di che fusticreato? d’vn ardore,
Che cio laesciuo in se rinchiude e serra &c.

But the Author hath in this translation inuerted the order of some verses of Seraphine, and added the two last of himselfe to make the rest to seeme the more patheticall.

WHen werte thou borne sweet Loue? who was thy sire?
Whē Flora first adornd Dame Tellus lap,
Then sprung I forth from Wanton hote desire:
Who was thy nurse to feede thée first with pap?
Youth first with tender hand bound vp my heade,
Then saide, with Lookes alone I should be fed;
What maides had she attendant on her side,
To playe, to singe, to rocke thée fast a sleepe?
Vaine Nicenesse, Beautie Faire, and Pompous Pride;
By stealth when further age on thee did creepe;
Where didst thou make thy chiefe abiding place?
In Willing Hartes, which were of gentle race;
What is’t where with thou wagest warres with me?
Feare colde as Ise, and Hope as hote as fire;
And can not age or death make end of thee?
No, no, my dying life still makes retire;
Why then sweete Loue take pittie on my paine,
Which often dye, and oft reuiue againe.

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The Author in this passion wisheth he were in like estate and condition with the Loooking Glasse of his mistres; by that meanes the oftner to be made happie with her fauourable and faire aspect. And in the last staffe he alludeth somewhat to the inuē∣tion of Seraphine, where he vseth these wordes, in writing vpon the Glasse of his beloued.

Che ho visto ogni qual vetro render foco
Quando è dal Sol percosso in qualche parte,
E Sol che in gliocchi toi dando in quel loco
Douria per reflexion tutta infiammarte &c.
THou Glasse, whetein that Sunne delightes to see
Her own aspect, whose beams haue dride my hart,
Would God I might possesse like state with thee,
And ioy some ease to quaile my bitter smart:
Thou gazest on her face, and she on thine;
I see not hers, nor she will looke on mine.
Once hauing lookt her fill, she turnes thée froe,
And leaues thee, though amaz’d, yet wel content;
But carelesse of my cares, will I or noe,
Still dwels within my breast with teares besprent;
And yet my hart to her is such a thrall,
That she dr••‘n out, my life departs withall.
But thou deceitfull Glasse (I feare) with guyle
Hast wrought my woes to shield thy selfe from ill,
Shot forth her beames which were in thee erewhile,
And burnt my tender brest against my will:
For Christall from it selfe reflectes the Sunne,
And fyres his coate, which knows not how tis done.

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Seraphine in his Strambotti hath many prettie inuen∣tions concerning the Lookingglasse of his Mi∣stres: wherhence many particulars of this passion are cunningly borrowed, part beeing out of one place, and part out of an other. And in the latter end is placed this fiction by the Authour, that Cu∣pid shooting his arrowe from out the faire eies of his Mistres, did so wounde him with loue and de∣sire, that nowe he is past all recure by any phisicke, and therefore is faine to vse the olde verse,

Hei mihi {quod} nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.
THou glasse, wherein my Dame hath such delight,
As when she braues, then most on thée to gaze,
I maruel howe her beames that are so bright
Do neuer cause thy brittle sides to craze:
Thou should’st by reason mealt or easly breake
To feele such force, thy substance being weake.
For when she first with seeming stately grace
Bestowd on me a louing sweete regard,
The beames, which then proceeded from her face
Were such, as for the same I found no warde,
But needes persorce I must become content
To mealt in minde till all my wittes were spent.
And therewithall Cupido plaid his part,
He shotte a shaft throughout her christall eyes.
Wherewith he clest in twaine my yeelding heart:
And this is cause my panting heart still cries,
I breake, I mealt, helpe heau’ns in my behoue,
No herbe doth growe whose vertue cureth loue.

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It is to be considered in reading this Passion, howe in some answeres, the accent or poynting of the wordes is altered, and therewithall howe the Authour walking in the woods, and bewayling his inward passion of Loue, is contraried by the replies of Echo: whose meaning yet is not so much to gainsay him, as to expresse her owne miserable estate in daily cōsuming away for the loue of her beloued Narcissus; whose vnkindnes Ouid describeth at large,*together with the ex∣treme loue of Echo.

IN all this world I thinke none lou’s but I.
None lou’s but I.
Thou foolish tattling ghest,
In this thou telst a lie.
thou telst a lie.
Why? Loue him selfe he lodgeth in my brest.
He lodgeth in my brest.
I pine for griefe;
And yet I want reliefe.
I want reliefe.
No starre more faire then she whom I adore.
Then* he, whom I adore.
Herehence I burne
Stil more and more.
I burne stil more and more.
Loue, let my heart returne.
my heart, returne.
Is then the Saint, for whom thou makest mone,
And whom I loue, but one?
I loue but one.
O heau’ns, is there in loue no ende of ills?
In loue no ende of ills.
Thou pratling voyce,
Dwelst thou in th’ ayre, or but in hollow hills?
In hollow hills.
Cease of to vaunt thy choyse.
Cease of to vaunt thy choyse.
I would replie.
But here for loue I die.
for loue I die.

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Here the Author as a man ouertaken with some deepe melan∣cholie, compareth him selfe vnto the Nightingale, and con∣ferreth his vnhappie estate (for that by no meanes his Mi∣stresse will pitie him) with her nightly complaints: to whose harmonie all those that giue attentiue eare, they conceiue more delight in the musicall varietie of her noates, then they take iust compassion vpon her distressed heauines.

WHen Maye is in his prime, and youthfull spring
Doth cloath the tree with leaues, and ground with flowres,
And time of yere reuiueth eu’ry thing;
And louely Nature smiles, and nothing lowres:
Then Philomela most doth straine her brest
With night-complaints, and sits in litle rest.
This Birds estate I may compare with mine,
To whom fond loue doth worke such wrongs by day,
That in the night my heart must néedes repine,
And storme with lighes to ease me as I may;
Whilst others are becalmd, or lye them still,
Or sayle secure with tide and winde at will.
And as all those, which heare this Bird complaine,
Conceiue in all her tunes a sweete delight,
Without remorse, or pitying her payne:
So she, for whom I wayle both day and night,
Doth sport her selfe in hearing my complaint;
A iust reward for seruing such a Saint.

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In the first sixe verses of this Passion, the Author hath imitated perfectly sixe verses in an Ode of Ronsard, which beginneth thus:

Celui qui n’ayme est malheureux,*
Et malheureux est l’amoureux,
Mais la misere, &c?

And in the last staffe of this Passion also he commeth very neere to the sense, which Ronsard vseth in an other place, where he writeth to his Mistresse in this maner:

En veus tu baiser Pluton
La bas,* apres che Caron
T’aura mise en sanacelle?
V* Nhappy is the wight, thats voide of Loue,
And yet vnhappie he, whom Loue torments,
But greatest griefe that man is forc’t to proue,
Whose haughtie Loue not for his loue relents,
But hoysing vp her sayle of prowd disdaine,
For seruice done makes no returne of gaine.
By this all you, which knowe my tickle state,
May giue deserued blame to whom I serue,
And say, that Loue hath miserie to mate,
Since labour breedes but losse, and letts me sterue:
For I am he which liues a lasting thrall
To her, whose heart affords no grace at all.
She hopes (perchance) to liue and flourish still,
Or els, when Charons boate hath felt her peaze,
By louing lookes to conquer Plutoes will;
But all in vaine: t’is not Proserpin’s ease:
She neuer will permit, that any one
Shall ioy his Loue, but the her selfe alone.

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In this Passion the Authour doth very busilie imitate & ang∣ment a certaine Ode of Ronsard, which hee writeth vnto his Mistres; he beginneth, as followeth,

Plusicurs de leurs cors denués
Se sont veuz en diuerse terre
Miraculeusement ninés,*
L’vn en Serpent, & l’autre en Pierre,
L’vn en Fleur, l’autre en Arbriffeau,
L’vn en Loup &c?
MAny haue liu’d in countreys farre and ny,
Whose heartes by Loue once quite consum’d away,
Strangely their shapes were changed by and by,
One to a Flow’r, an other to a Bay,
One to a Streame, whose course yet maketh mone,
One to a Doue, an other to a Stone.
But harke my Deere; if wishing could preuaile,
I would become a Christall Mirrour I,
Wherein thou might’st behold what thing I aile:
Or els I would be chang’d into a Flie,
To tast thy cuppe, and being dayly ghest
At bord and bedde, to kisse thee mid’st thy rest;
Or I would be Perfume for thee to burne,
That with my losse I might but please thy sinell;
Or be some sacred Spring, to serue thy turne,
By bathing that, wherein my heart doth dwell;
But woe is me, my wishing is but vaine,
Since fate bidds Loue to work my endlesse paine.

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The Authour in this Sonnet in a large maner setteth forth the surpassinge worthines of his Ladie, reporting her beawtie and forme to be so singuler, that neither Appelles can per∣fectly drawe her portraicte; nor Praxiteles trewly frame her image and likenes in any kinde of mettall. And the like vnablenes he awardeth vnto Virgill and Homer the two Pa∣ragons of Poetrye, if they should but once endeuour to praise her. And the like insufficiencie he sayeth would be found in Tullie him selfe, if he should endeuour to commend her. And thē finally he excuseth his owne bould hardines shewed in praysing her, vpon the forcible extremitie, which he abi∣deth in Loue, and the earnest desire, which he hath to please.

SUch is the Saint, whom I on earth adore,
As neuer age shall know when this is past,
Nor euer yet hath like byn séene before:
Apelles yf he liu’d would stand agast
* With coulours to set downe her comely face,
Who farre excells though Venus were in place.
Praxiteles might likewise stand in doute
In metall to expresse her forme arighte,
Whose praise for shape is blowne the world throughout;
Nor Virgill could so good a verse indite
As onely would suffise to tell her name;
Nor Homer with his Muse expresse her fame;
Tully, whose speach was boulde in eu’ry cause,
Yf he were here to praise the Saint I serue,
The number of her giftes would make him pause,
And feare to speake how well she doth deserue.
Why then am I thus bould that haue no skill?
Enforst by Loue I shew my zealous will.

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In the first part of this Passion the Author prooueth, that hee abideth more vnrest and hurt for his beloued, then euer did Laeander for his Hero: of which two paramours the mutuall feruency in Loue is most excellently set foorth by Musaeus the Greeke Poet. In the second part he compareth himselfe with Pyramus, and Haemon king Creons Sonne of Thebes, which were both so true hearted louers, that through Loue they suffered vntimely death, as Ouid. metam. lib. 4. writeth at large of the one, And the Greeke Tragedian Sophocles in Antig. of the other. In the last, in making comparison of his paynes in Loue to the paines of Orpheus descendinge to hell for his Eurydice, he alludeth to those two verses in Strozza,

Tartara, Cymba, Charon, Pluto, rota, Cerberus, angues.
Cocytes, Phlegeton, Stix, laepis, vrna, sitis.
WHat though Leander swamme in darksome night,
Through troubled Heles pont for Heroes sake;
And lost his life by losse of Sestus light?
The like or more my selfe do vndertake,
When eu’ry howre along the lingring yeare.
My ioye is drownde, and hope blowne out with feare.
And what though Pyram spent his vitall breath
For Thiebes sake? or Haemon choase to die
To follow his Antigone by death?
In harder case and worser plight am I,
Which loue as they, but liue in dying still,
And faine would die, but can not haue my will.
We reade that Orpheus with his Harpe of golde,
For his Euridice went downe to hell:
The toyle is more, by that time all be tolde,
Which I endure for her, whose heart is fell;
The Stigian Curre, the Wheele, the Stone, the Fire,
And Furies all are plac’t in my desire.

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There needeth no annotation at all before this Passion, it is of it selfe so plaine, and easilye conuayed. Yet the vnlearned may haue this helpe geuen them by the way to know what Galaxia is, or Pactolus, which perchaunce they haue not read off often in our vulgar Rimes. Galaxia (to omit both the E∣timologie and what the Philosophers doe write thereof) is a white way or milky Circle in the heauens,* which Ouid men∣tioneth in this manner.

Est via sublimis coelo manifesta sereno,
Lactea nomen habet, candore not abilis ipso.

And Cicero thus in somnio Scipionis; Erat autem is splendidissimo can∣dore inter flammas circulus elucens, quem vos (vt a Graijs accepistis) orbem lacteum nuncupatis. Pactolus is a riuer in Lidia, which hath golden sandes vnder it, as Tibullus witnesseth in this verse,

Nec me regna inuant,* nec Lydius aurifer amnis.
WHo can recount the vertues of my deare,
Or say how farre her fame hath taken flight,
That can not tell how many starres appeare
In part of heau’n, which Galaxia hight,
Or number all the moates in Phebus rayes,
Or golden sandes, whereon Pactolus playes?
And yet my hurts enforce me to confesse,
In crystall breast she shrowdes a bloudy hart,
Which hart in time will make her merits lesse,
Unlesse betimes she cure my deadly smart:
For nowe my life is double dying still,
And she defam’de by suffrance of such ill;
And till the time she helpes me as she may,
Let no man vndertake to tell my toyle,
But onely suche, as can distinctly say,
What Monsters Nilus breedes, or Affricke soyle:
For if he doe, his labour is but lost,
Whilst I both frie and freeze twixt flame and frost.

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Here the Author by fayning a troublesome dreame, expres∣seth a full Passion of Loue. And how soeuer some wil conster of this kinde of Inuention, it is euident, that the like hath bin vsuall amongst those that haue excelled in the sweetest vaine of Poetrie. And (to let the rest goe,) it may please him that is curious to finde some president hereof, to visite but the workes of Hercules Strozza,* who in his Somnium hath writtē so exquisitely, that the Dreame will quite his trauaile that shall peruse it with due attention.

IN Thetis lappe, while Titan tooke his rest,
I slumbring lay within my restlesse bedde,
Till Morpheus vs’d a falsed soary iest,
Presenting her, by whom I still am ledde:
For then I thought she came to ende my wo,
But when I wakt (alas) t’was nothing so.
Embracing ayre in steed of my delight,
I blamed Loue as authour of the guile,
Who with a second sléepe clozd vp my sight,
And said (me thought) that I must bide a while
Ixions paines, whose armes did oft embrace
False darkned clouds, in steed of Iunoes grace.
When I had laine and slumbred thus a while,
Rewing the dolefull doome that Loue assign’d,
A woman Saint, which bare an Angels face,
ad me awake and ease my troubled minde:
With that I wakt, forgetting what was past,
And sawe t’was Hope, which helped thus at last.

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In this Sonnet the Authour is of opinion, that his Mistres (by the fatall appoyntement of destinie) was from the begin∣ning reserued to liue in these times, and to bee the onely gouernesse & subiect of his thoughtes: whereas: if either she had bene borne, when Paris was to giue sentence vpon Ida for bestowing the Golden Apple; she had (as he suppo∣seth) bene preferred before Iuno, Pallas and Venus, & more∣ouer supplied that place in the loue of kinge Priams sonne, whiche Helen of Greece obteined: or if shee had then liued when Bacchus tooke Ariadne to wife, she had bene conuayed in her steede, vnto that place in heau’n, where nowe the Crowne of Ariadne called* Corond Gnosia doth shine conti∣nuallie, beinge beautified with greate varietie of lightsome starres.

WHen Priams sonne in midst of Ida plaine
Gaue one the price, and other two the foile,
If she for whome I still abide in paine
Had liued then within the Troyan soile,
No doubt but hers had bene the golden ball,
Helen had scaped rape, and Iroy his fall.
Or if my Dame had then enioyed life
When Bacchus sought for Ariadnaes loue,
No doubt but she had onely bene his wife,
And flowne from hence to sit with Gods aboue:
For she excéedes his choise of Create so farre
As Phebus doth excell a twinckeling starre,
But from the first all fates haue thus assign’d,
That she should liue in these our latter dayes,
I thinke to beare a sway within my minde
And féede my thoughtes with frendly sweete delayes;
If so it be,* let me attend my chaunce,
And fortune pipe when I beginne to daunce.

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The Author in this Sonnet very highly commendeth the most rare excellencies of his mistres, auouching her to haue no equall. And he imitateth the second Sonnet, Nelle rime di messer Agnolo Fiorenzuola the Florentine, whose beginning is all one with that heere; and this it is:

Deh le mie belle donne et amorose,
Ditemi il ver per vostra cortesia,
Non è chiara tra voi la donna mia,
Come e’l Sol chiar tratutte l’altre cose?
YE stately Dames, whose beauties farre excell,
Of courtesie confesse at my request,
Doth not my Loue amongst you beare the bell,
As Phebus goulden rayes obscures the rest
Of Planet Starres, and dimmeth eu’ry light
That shines in heau’n or earth by day or night?
Take wistly heed in vewing her sweete face,
Where nature hath exprest what cre she could
Eather for bewties blaze or comely grace:
Since when to prize her worke she brake the moulde,
So that who seekes to finde her Equall out,
Intends a thing will nere be brought about.
Therefore sweete Ladies all voutchsafe with me
To folow her desert, and my desire,
By praysing her vnto the ninth degree,
” For honour by due right is vertues hire,
And Enuies mouth must saye when all is donne,
No Bird but one is sacred to the sunne.

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In this Passion the Authour, as being blinded with Loue, first compareth himselfe with Tiresias the old Soothsayer of The∣bes, whome Iuno depriued of sight; but loue rewarded him with the spirit of prophecy. Then he alludeth vnto Actaon: And lastly he sheweth why he is in worse case, then those, which by vewing Medusaes heade were turned into stoanes, leesing both life and light at once; and so concludeth, that olde accursed Oedipus of all other best befitteth him for a companion.

WHen first mine eyes were blinded with Desire,
They had newe seene a Second Sunne whose face
Though cleere as beaten snowe, yet kindled fire
Within my brest, and moulte my heart apase:
Thus learned I by proofe, what others write,
That Sunne, and fire, and snowe offend the sight.
O ten times happie blinded Theban wight,
Whose losse of sight did make him halfe diume,
Where I (alas) haue lost both life and light,
Like him, whose hornes did plague his heedles eyen;
And yet was he in better case then I,
Which neither liue, nor can obtaine to dye.
All Perseus foes that sawe Medusaes heade,
By leesing shape and sense were quitte from thrall;
But I feele paines, though blinde and double deade,
And was my selfe efficient cause of all:
Wherefore, of all that ere did cease to see
* Old Oedipus were meetest mate for me.

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Here the Author misliketh of his wearisome estate in loue, for that he neither obtaineth any fauour at the handes of his Mistres for his good thought or speach, nor by his louinge lookes, or presents, nor by his humilitie in writing, or long sufferance in seruitude. And herehence he blameth her o∣uerhardnes of heart, and the froward constellation of his owne natiuitie: and therewithall abandoning all further desire of life, hath in request vntimely death, as the only end of his infelicitie.

EAch thought I thinke is frend to her I Loue;
I still in speach vse course of gentle workes;
My louing lookes are such as ought to moue;
My giftes as greate as mine estate affordes;
My letters tell in what a case I stand,
Though full of blots through fault of trembling hand;
I dewly daunce attendance as I may,
With hope to please, and feare to make offence;
All sou’ramdie to her I graunt for aye;
And where she hurtes yet make I no defence;
Sobbes are the songe, wherein I take delight;
And shew’rs of teares do dayly dimme my sight.
And yet all this doth make but small auaile,
Her heart is hard, and neuer will relent,
No time, no place, no prayer can preuaile,
The heau’ns them selues disfauour mine intent:
Why should I then desire a longer life,
To weaue therein a webbe of endlesse strife?

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The Author in this passion doth by manner of secret compa∣rison preferre his beloued before all other women whatsoe∣uer: and persuadeth vpon the examples of all sortes of Goddes (whom loue hath ouertaken at one time or other) that the worthines of his Mistres being well considered, his owne fondnes in loue must of force be in it selfe excusable.

IF loue himselfe be subiect vnto Loue
And cange the woodes to finde a mortall praie:
If Neptune from the seas himselfe remoue,
And seeke on sandes with earthly wightes to plaie:
Then may I loue my peerelesse choise by right,
Who farre excels each other mortall wight.
If Pluto could by loue be drawne from hell,
To yeeld him selfe a silly Virgins thrall:
If Phebus could voutsafe on earth to dwell,
To winne a rustike maide vnto his call:
Then, how much more should I adore the sight
Of her, in whom the heau’ns themselues delight?
If cuntrie Pan might folowe Nymphe’s in chase,
And yet through loue remaine deuoyd of blame:
If Satirs were excus’d for seeking grace
To ioy the fruites of any mortall Dame:
Then, why should I once doubt to loue her still,
On whom ne Goodes nor men can gaze theire fill?

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In the firste staffe of this Passion the Authour expresseth howe fondly his friendes ouer trouble him, by questioninge with him touching his loue, or accidents thereof. In the two last verses of the second staffe he imitateth those verses of So∣phocles:

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

which may be thus Englished,*

That man, which champion like will striue with Loue
And combate hand to hand, hath little witte:
For as he list he rules the Gods aboue.

And in the last, he setteth downe his mind fully bent to per∣sist constantly in the loue & seruice of his Ladie: like to that, which Stephanus Forcatulus (an excellent Ciuilian, and one of the best Poetes of Fraunce for these many yeares) wrote vn∣to his beloued Clytia:

Quin noctu pluuiu•• citiùs mirabimur arcum,
Sol{que} domo Hesperidum mane propinquus erit,
Quàm capia lepide me foeda obliui nymphae, &c?
SOme aske me, when, and how my loue begunne;
Some, where it lies, and what effectes it hath;
Some, who she is, by whome I am vndone;
Some, what I meane to treade so lewde a path;
I answere all alike, by answ’ring nought,
But, ble’st is he, whome Cupid neuer caught
And yet I coulde, if sorrowe woulde permit,
Tell when and howe I fix’t my fancie first,
And for whose sake I lost both will and wit,
And choase the path, wherein I liue accurst:
But such like deedes would breed a double feare,
” For loue gainesaide growes madder then before.
But note herewith, that so my thoughts are bound
To her in whome my libertie lies thrall,
That if she would veutchsafe to salue my wound,
Yet force of this my loue should neuer fall,
Till Phoebus vse to rise from out the West,
And towardes night seeke lodging in the East.

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The second part of this Passion is borrowed from out the fifte Sonnet in Petrarch part. 1. whose wordes are those,

Piu volte gia per dir le labbra apersi:
Poirimase la voce in mez z’lpetto:
Ma qual suon poria mai salir tant’alto?
Piu volte incominciai di scriuer versi.
Ma la penna, e la mano, e lo’ntelletto
Rimaser vinto nel primier assalto.
WHen first these eyes behold with great delight
The Phoenix of this world, or second Sunne,
Her beames or plumes bewitched all my sight,
And loue encreast the hurte that was begunne:
Since when my griefe is grow’ne so much the more,
Because I finde no way to cure the soare.
I haue attempted oft to make complainte,
And with some dolefull wordes to tell my griefe,
But through my fearefull heart my voyce doth fainte,
And makes me mute where I shoulde craue releife:
An other while I thinke to write my paine,
But streight my hand laies downe the pen againe,
Sometimes my mind with heapes of doubtefull cares
Conioyn’d with fawning hoapes is sore opprest,
And sometime suddeine ioy at vnawares
Doth moue to much, and so doth hurte my brest;
What man doth liue in more extréemes then these,
Where death doth séeme a life, and paines doe please?

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The sense contained in this Sonnet will seeme strange to such as neuer haue acquainted themselues with Loue and his Lawes, because of the contrarieties mentioned therein. But to such, as Loue at any time hath had vnder his banner, all and euery part of it will appeare to be a familier trueth. It is almost word for word taken out of Petrarch, (where hee be∣ginneth,*

Pace non truouo, e non ho da far guerra;
E temo, e spero &c?)

All, except three verses, which this Authour hath necessari∣ly added, for perfecting the number, which hee hath deter∣mined to vse in euery one of these his Passions.

I Ioy net peace, where yet no warre is found;
I feare, and hope; I burne, yet freeze withall;
I mount to heau’n, yet lie but on the ground;
I compasse nought, and yet I compasse all;
I liue her bond, which neither is my soe,
Nor frend; nor holdes me fast, nor lets me goe;
Loue will not that I liue, nor lets me die;
Nor lockes me fast, nor suffers me to scape;
I want both eyes and tongue, yet see and cry;
I wish for death, yet after helpe I gape;
I hate my selfe, but loue an other wight;
And féede on greefe, in lieu of sweete delight;
At selfe same time I both lament and ioy;
I still am pleasd, and yet displeased still;
Loue sometimes seemes a God, sometimes a Boy;
Sometimes I sincke, sometimes I swimme at will;
Twixt death and life, small difference I make;
All this deere Dame befals me for thy sake.

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This Passion is framed vpon a somewhat tedious or too much affected continuation of that figure in Rhethorique, whiche of the Grekes is called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 or 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, of the La∣tines Reduplicatio: whereof Susenbrotus (if I well remember me) alleadgeth this example out of Virgill,

Sequitur pulcherrimus Austur,*
Austur equo fidens.
O Happy men that finde no lacke in Loue;
I Loue, and lacke what most I do desire;
My déepe desire no reason can remoue;
All reason shunnes my brest, that’s set one fire;
And so the fire mainetaines both force and flame,
That force auayleth not against the same;
One onely helpe, can slake this burning heate,
Which burning heate procéedeth from her face,
Whose face by lookes bewitched my conceite,
Through which conceite I liue in woefull case;
O woefull case, which hath no ende of woe,
Till woes haue ende by fauour of my foe;
And yet my foe maintetaineth such a Warre,
As all her Warre is nothing els but Peace;
But such a Peace, as breedeth secreat Iarre,
Which Iarre no witte, no force, no time can cease;
Yet cease despaire: for time by witte, or force,
May force my frendly foe to take remorse.

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In this Passiō the Authour vnder colour of telling his dreame doth very cunningly and liuely praise his Mistres, so farre forth, as not onely to prefer her before Helen of Greece for excellencie of beautie, but also before howe many soeuer are nowe liuing in this our age. The dreame of it selfe is so plainely & effectually set downe (albeit in fewe wordes) that it neede no further annotation to explaine it.

THis latter night amidst my troubled rest
A Dismall Dreame my fearefull hart appald,
Whereof the somme was this: Loue made a Feast,
To which all Neighbour, Saintes and Gods were calde:
The cheere was more then mortall men can thinke,
And mirth grew on, by taking in their drinke.
Then Ioue amidst his cuppes for seruice done
Can thus to iest with Gaymede his boy;
I fame would finde for thée my preaty Sonne
A fayrer Wife, then Paris brought to Troy:
Why, sir, quoth he, if Phebus stand my frend,
Who know’s the world, this géere will soone haue end,
Then Ioue replide that Phebus should not choose
But do his best to finde the fayrest face;
And she once found should neither will nor choose
But yéelde her selfe, and chaunge her dwelling place;
Alas, how much was then my hart affright,
Which bade me wake and watch my faire delight?

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The sense or matter of this Passion is taken out of Seraphine in his Strambotti, who writeth thus,

Se Salamandra in fiamma viue, e in fuoco,
Non me stupisce quel che fà natura,
Macostei che è di giaccio, & io di fuoco,
E in mezo del mio cuor viue sicura;
Chi la defende in cosi ardente fuoco,
Che douendo sguagliar aiuenta dura?
Solo Amor di Natura aspro aduersario,
Che à suo dispetto vnisce ogni contrario.
THe Salamander liues in fire and flame,
And yet but wonder small in Natures worke:
By straunger force loue winnes away her fame,
As causing colde in midst of heat to lurke.
Who list of these my paines to take the view,
Will soone confesse that what I say, is true.
For one as colde as hardest frozen yse,
Is fixed fast, and lodgeth in my brest;
Whome reason can remoue by no deuise,
Nor any force can cause to let me rest:
And yet I still so swimme in hoate desire,
That more I burne then either flame or fire.
How straunge is this? can contraries so grée,
That Ise in flame will neither waste nor melt,
But still encrease, and harder growe to bée,
Then erst before? all this my selfe haue felt.
For Loue Dame Natures foe, without remorse,
Thus coopleth contraries in me by force.

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In this Passion the Authour misliketh one while his estate, & by and by after liketh of the same againe, vppon hoape and likelyhoode of amendment, & throughout the whole Son∣net hee fayneth his Mistres to bee a Second Sunne: and by ex∣pressinge his priuate infelicitie, in either alwayes meltinge away with Loue, or growinge stiffe throughe Death approa∣chinge neere him by reason of dayly cares; hee maketh allu∣sion vnto the diuerse effectes of the Sunne, whiche maketh the clay much harder, and the wax softer, then it was before.

THat Second Sunne, whose beames haue dund my sight,
So scorched hath my hart and senses all,
That cloggd with cares, and voide of all delight,
I onely seeke, and sue to be her thrall;
Yet soe this heate increaseth day by day,
That more and more it hast neth my decay.
Sometimes I melt, as if my limmes were wex.
Sometimes grow stiffe, as if they were of clay;
Thrise happy he whome Loue doth neuer vexe,
Nor any Second Sunne doth mealt away:
Nay cursed I blaspheme the fayrest Light
That euer yet was seene by day or night.
Perchaunce her parching heates will once repaire
My hart againe, and make me all anew:
The Phenix so reuiues amids the ayre
By vertue of that Sunne which all men view:
The vertue of my Sunne exceedes the skye,
By her I shall reuiue, though first I die.

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The Authour vseth in this Passion the like sense to that which he had in the last before it, calling his Mistres a Second Sunne vpon earth, wherewith Heauen it selfe is become in Loue: But when he compiled this Sonnet, he thought not to haue placed it amongst these his English toyes.

FOelices alij iuuenes, quos blandula Cypris
Aptos fecit amoribus,
Exoptare solent tenebrosa crepuscula noctis,
Aurorae maledicere:
At multo est mihi chara magis pulcherrima coniux
Tythoni gelidi senis,
Dum venit in prima surgentis parte diei,
Et Soles geminos mihi
Apperit, & moesto foelices reddit ocellos,
Quòd Soles videam duos,
Qui simili forma, simili sic luce coruscant,
Et mittunt radios pares,
Vt Polus ipse nouo Terrae laqueatus amore
F•• nmis inuideat meis,
Solis & ignoto se torreat igne secundi,
Oblitus decoris sui,
Haud secus at{que} olim, Cum veris prima venustas
Multo flore superbijt,
Et nitidos primùm strophijs ornâre capillos
Pulchri Naïadum chori.

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Here the Author bewaileth the extremitie of his estate gro∣winge dayly to be more troublesome then before, and all through the hard hart of his beloued: whome he therefore aptly compareth vnto a stony rocke, which nothinge can moue or waste awaye but longe continuance of time. And hereuppon, after hauing longe striued with himselfe and his passions, hee is quyetly resolued to haue patience, & so long to perseuer in the still hoping minde of a trewe louer, till by long continuance of time Loue be induced to stande his friend.

ALl yee that loue compare your paines with mine,
Which voyde of hoape continue still her thrall,
Whose hart is hard, and neuer will assigne
A raunsome day, nor once will bowat all,
Much like the stony rocke, whose hardned side
Will scarsely weare with course of time or tide.
And yet, since time can weare each thinge away,
I will enforce my selfe to liue content,
Till so my thoughtes haue fed upon delay,
That Reason rule the roast and loue relent;
O vaine attempt in striuing with Dispaire,
I build nought els but castles in the ayre.
For why: the Qunne may sooner shine by night,
And twinckling starres giue glimsinge sparkes by day:
Then I can earn to serue my Sweete delight,
Whome neither force nor time can driue away:
Therefore in hoape that loue will stand my frend
I thus conclude, Each thing but loue hath end.

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This Passion conteineth a relation through out from line to line; as, from euery line of the first staffe as it standeth in order, vnto euery line of the second staffe: and from the se∣cond staffe vnto the third. The oftener it is read of him that is no great clarke, the more pleasure he shall haue in it. And this posie a scholler set down ouer this Sonnet, when he had well considered of it: Tam casu, quàm arte & industria. The two first lines are an imitation of Seraphine, Sonnetto 103.

Col tempo el Villanello al giogo mena
El T or si fiero, e si crudo animale,
Col tempo el Falcon s’vsa à menar l’ale
Eritornare à te chiamando à pena.
IN time the Bull is brought to weare the yoake;
In time all haggred Haukes will stoope the Lures;
In time small wedge will cleaue the sturdiest Oake;
In time the Marble weares with weakest shewres:
More fierce is my sweete loue, more hard withall,
Then Beast, or Birde, then Tree, or Stony wall.
No yoake preuailes, shee will not yeeld to might;
No Lure will cause her stoope, she beares full gorge;
No wedge of woes make printe, she reakes no right;
No shewre of teares can moue, she thinkes I forge:
Helpe therefore Heau’nly Boy, come perce her brest
With that same shaft, which rabbes me of my rest.
So let her feele thy force, that the relent;
So keepe her lowe, that she vouchsafe a pray;
So frame her will to right, that pride be spent;
So forge, that I may speede without delay;
Which if thou do, Ile sweare, and singe with ioy,
That Loue no longer is a blinded Boy.

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This Passion conteineth two principal pointes. In the first are placed two similitudes; in both which the Authour expres∣seth his own wilfulnes in loue. In the second, he compareth the beautifull eyes of his Mistresse vnto the eyes of the Ba∣silique, which killeth a man with his onely sight being a farre of: whereof Lucan lib. 9. saith thus,

Sibila{que} effundens cunctas terrentia pestes,
Ante venena nocens, latè sibi submouet omne
Vulgus, & in vacua regnat Basiliscus arena.

And Mantuan in like manner,

Natus in ardenti Libyae Basiliscus arena,
Vulnerat aspectu, luminibus{que} necat.
LIke as the sillie Bird amids the night,
When Birders beate the bush, and shake his nest,
He fluttring forth streight flies vnto the light,
As if it were the day newe sprong from East,
Where so his wilfull wings consume away,
That néedes he must become the Birders pray:
Or, as the Flye, when candles are alight
Still playes about the flame vntill he burne:
Euen so my heart hath seene a heau’nly sight,
Wherehence againe it hardly can returne:
The beames thereof couteine such wondrous flame,
That Ioue him selfe would burne to see the same.
I meane a Virgins face, whose beautie rare,
Much like the Basilique in Lybia soyle,
With onely sight is cause of all my care,
And loads my yeelding heart with endlesse toyle;
Yet needes I must confesse she hath more grace,
Then all the Nimphes that haunt Dianaes chase.

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The Author in this Song bewrayeth his dayly Passions in loue to be so troublesome, that to auoide the flames thereof, hee gladly & faine would yeelde himselfe to die, were it not that he feareth a further inconuenience would then arise. For he doubteth least those flames, wherein his soule continuallye burneth, shall make Charon afraide to graunt him passage o∣uer the Lake of Stix, by reason, his old withered boat is apt to take fire.

SO great a Light hath set my mind on fire,
That flesh and boane consume with secreat-flame,
Each vaine dries vp, wit yéeldes to déepe desire:
I scarce (alas) dare say, for very shame,
How fame my soule an interchaunge would make
Twixt this her present State and Limbo lake;
And yet she dread’s, least when she paites from hence,
Her Heates be such, that Charon will retire,
And let her passe for prayer, nor for* pence,
For feare his with’red boat be set on fire;
So daung’rous are the flames of Mighty Loue
In Stix it selfe, in earth, or heau’n aboue.
Wherefore déere Dame voutchsafe to rew my case,
And salue the soare which thou thy selfe hast made:
My Heates first grew by gazing on thy face,
Whose lights were such, that I could find no shade:
And thou my weary Soule bend all thy force,
By Plaintes and Teares to moue her to remorse.

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In this Passion is effectually set downe, in how straunge a case he liueth that is in loue, and in how contrary an estate to all other men, which are at defiaunce with the like follye. And this the Authour expresseth here in his owne person: there∣withall calling vpon Loue, to stand his frend; or, if he faile, vpon death, to cut of his wearysome life.

WHile others féede, my fancy makes me fast;
While others liue secure, I feare mischaunce;
I dread no force, where other stand agast;
I follow sute where Fortune leades the Daunce,
Who like a mumming mate so throwes the Dice,
That Reason léesing all, Loue winnes the price;
Which Loue by force so warketh in my brest,
That néedes perforce I must encline my will
To die in dreames, whiles others liue in rest,
And liue in woes while others feele none ill.
O gentle Death let heere my dayes haue ende,
Or mightie Loue, so vse me as thy frend.
Mine eyes are worne with teares, my wittes with woe,
My coulour dride with cares, my hart with paines,
My will bewitcht, my limmes consumed soe,
That scarsely bloud, or vitall breath remaynes:
While others ioy, or sleepe, I wayle and wake:
All this (Deere Dame,) I suffer for thy sake.

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Tityus was the sonne of Iupiter, and for attempting to dishonest Latona, was slaine by Apollo. Since which time the Poetes faine that for punishment he lieth in hell, miserably tormen∣ted with a rauening Vulture, which feedeth vpon his bowels continuallie: and they as they are consumed, still miracu∣lously growe vp againe, to breede his endlesse miserie, as the Poet witnesseth,*

Quid dieam Tityum, cuius sub vulnere saeuo
Viscera nascuntur grauibus certanitia poenis?

The Authour compareth his passions with the paines of this Tityus, and imitateth Seneca writing to the like effect,

Vultur relicto transuolet Tityo ferus,
Meum{que} poenae semper accrescat iccur.
IF Tityus wretched wight beheld my paines,
He would confesse his woundes to be but small,
A Vultur worse then his teares all my vaines,
Yet neuer lets me die, nor liue at all:
Would Gods a while I might possesse his place,
To iudge of both, which were in better case.
The Hell is darke, wherein he suffreth smarte,
And wants not some Compartners of his gréefe:
I liue in Light, and see what hurtes my hart,
But want some mourning mates for my releefe;
His Paine is iust rewarde, his crimes were such:
My greatest fault is this, I loue too much.
Why then, since too much loue can breede offence,
Thou daung’rous Bird, the roote of my desire,
Goe pearch elswhere, remoue thy selfe from hence;
I freeze like Ile, and burne like flaming fire:
Yet stay good Bird: for if thou scare away,
Twixt Frost and Flame my dayes will soone decay.

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Here the Authour after some dolorous discourse of his vnhap∣pines, and rehearsall of some particular hurtes which he su∣steineth in the pursute of his loue: first questioneth with his Lady of his deserte; and then, as hauinge made a sufficiente proofe of his innocency, perswadeth her to pitie him, whom she herselfe hath hurte. Moreouer it is to be noted, that the first letters of all the verses in this Passion being ioyned to∣gether as they stand, do conteine this posie agreeable to his meaning, Amor me pungit & vrit.

A AW••ld of woes doth raigne within my brest,
m My pensiue thoughtes are cou’red all with care,
o Of all that sing the Swanne doth please me best,
r Restraint of ioyes exiles my woonted fare,
M Mad mooded Loue vsurping Reasons place
e Extremitie doth ouer rule the case.
P Paine drieth vp my vaines and vitall bloud,
u Unlesse the Saint I serue geue helpe in time:
n None els, but she alone, can do me good.
g Graunt then ye Gods, that first she may not clime
i Immortall heau’ns, to liue with Saintes aboue,
t Then she vouchsafe to yeeld me loue for loue,
E Examine well the time of my distresse
t Thou dainty Dame, for whom I pine away,
V Unguyltie though, as needes thou nust confesse,
r Remembring but the cause of my decay:
i In vewing thy sweete face arose my griefe,
t. Therefore in time vouchsafe me some reliefe.

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The two first partes of this Sonnet, are an imitation of certaine Greeke verses of Theocritus; which verses as they are transla∣ted by many good Poets of later dayes, so moste aptlye and plainely by C. Vrcinus Velius in his Epigrammes; hee begin∣neth thus,

Nuper apis furem pupugit violenter Amorem
Ipsum ex alueolis clam mella fauos{que} legentem,
Cui summos manuum digitos confixit, at ille
Indoluit, laesae tumuerunt vulnere palmae:
Flanxit humum, & saltu trepidans pulsauit, & ipsi
Ostendens Veneri, casum narrauit acerbum, &c.
WHere tender Loue had laide han downe to sleepe,
A little Bee so stong his fingers end,
That burning ache enforced him to wéepe
And call for*Phebus Sonne to stand his frend,
To whome he cride, I muse so small a thing
Can pricke thus déepe with suche a little Sting.
Why so, sweet Boy, quoth Venus sitting by?
Thy selfe is yong, thy arrowes are but small
And yet thy shotte makes hardest harts to cry:
To Phebus Sunne she turned there withall,
And prayde him shew his skill to cure the sore,
Whose like her Boy had neuer felt before.
Then he with Herbes recured soone the wound,
Which being done, he threw the Herbes away,
Whose force, through touching Loue, in selfe same ground,
By haplesse hap did breede my hartes decay:
For there they fell, where long my hart had li’ne
To waite for Loue, and what he should assigne.

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In this Passion the Authour boasteth, howe sound a pleasure he lately enioyed in the companie of his Beloued, by pleasing effectually all his fiue senses exterior, and that through the onely benefite of her friendly presence, and extraordinarie fauour towards him. And in many choyse particulars of this Sonnet, he imitateth here and there a verse of Ronsardes, in a certaine Elegie to Ianet peintre du Roy: which beginneth thus,

Pein moi, Ianet, pein moiie te supplie
Dans ce tableau les beautés de m’amie
De la façon, &c.
WHat happie howre was that I lately past
With her, in whome I fedde my senses all?
With one sure sealed kisse I pleas’d my tast;
Mine eares with woordes, which seemed Musicall;
My smelling with her breath, like Ciuet sweete;
My touch in place where modestie thought meete.
But shall I say, what obiectes held mine eye?
Her curled Lockes of Gold, like Tagus sandes;
Her Forehead smooth and white as Iuory,
Where Glory, State, and Bashfullnes held handes;
Her Eyes, one making Peace, the other Warres;
By Venus one, the other rul’d by Mars;
Her Egles Nose; her Scarlate Cheekes halfe white;
Her Teeth of Orient Pearle; her gracious smile;
Her dimpled Chinne; her Breast as cleere as light;
Her Hand like hers,* who Tithon did beguile.
For worldly ioyes who might compare with mée,
While thus I fedde each sense in his degree?

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The whole inuention of all this Passion is deducted out of Se∣raphine, Sonnet 63. whose verses if you reade, you will iudge this Authors imitatiō the more praise worthy; these they are

Come alma assai bramosa & poco accorta
Che mai visto hauea amor se non depinto,
Disposi vn di cercar suo Laberinto,
Vedere él monstro, & tanta gente morta,
Ma quel fil dèragion che chi per scorta
Del qual fu tutto el ceco loco cinto
Subito, ahime, fu da lui rotto & vinto,
Talche mai piu trouar seppi la porta.
MY heedelesse hart which Loue yet neuer knew,
But as he was describ’d with Painters hand,
One day amongst the rest would needes goe view
The Labyrinth of Loue, with all his hand,
To see the Minotaure his ougly face,
And such as there lay slaine within the place.
But soone my guiding thrid by Reason spunne,
Wherewith I past a long his darkesome caue,
Was broake (alas) by him, and ouerrunne,
And I perforce became his captiue slaue:
Since when as yet I neuer found the way
To leaue that maze, wherein so many stray.
Yet thou on whome, mine eyes haue gaz’d so longe
May’st, if thou wilt, play Ariadnaes part,
And by a second Thrid reuenge the wronge,
Which through deceit hath hurt my guiltlesse hart;
Uouchsafe in time to saue and set me free,
Which seeke and serue none other Saint but thee.

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The first Staffe of this Passion is much like vnto that inuention of Seraphue in his Strambotti, where he saith,

Morte! che vuoi? te bramo: Eccomi appresso;
Prendemi: a che? che manchi el mio dolore;
Non posso: ohime, non puoi? non per adesso;
Perche? pero che in te non regnail core. &c.

The second Staffe somewhat imitateth an other of his Stram∣botti in the same leafe; it beginneth thus,

Amor, amor: chi è quel che chiama tanto?
Vn tuo seruo fidel; non ti conosco; &c.

The Authour in the laste Staffe, returneth to entreate Death a new, to ende his dayes, as being halfe perswaded that Loue would restore vnto him his hart againe.

COme gentle Death; who cals? one thats opprest:
What is thy will? that thou abridge my woe,
By cutting of my life; cease thy request,
I cannot kill thee yet: alas, why soe?
Thou want’st thy Hart. Who stoale the same away?
Loue, whom thou seru’st, intreat him if thou may.
Come, come, come Loue: who calleth me so oft?
Thy Uassall true, whome thou should’st know by right.
What makes thy cry so faint? my voyce is softe,
And almost spent by wayling day and night.
Why then, whats thy request? that thou restore
To me my Hart, and steale the same no more.
And thou, O Death, when I possesse my Hart,
Dispatch me then at once: why so?
By promise thou art bound to end my smart.
Why, if thy Hart returne, then whats thy woe?
That brought from colde, It neuer will desire
To rest with me, which ani more hote then fire.

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Here the Authour cheerefully comforting himselfe, rebuketh all those his frendes, or others whatsoeuer, which pitie his estate in Loue: and groundeth his inuention, for the moste part, vpon the old Latine Prouerbe, Consuetudo est altera natu∣ra. Which Prouerbe hee confirmeth by two examples; the one, of him, that being borne farre North seldome ketcheth colde; the other of the Negro, which beinge borne vnder a hote climate, is neuer smoothered with ouermuch heate.

ALl yee, that gréeue to thinke my death so néere,
Take pitie on your selues, whose thought is blind;
Can there be Day, vnlesse some Light appeare?
Can fire be colde, which yeeldeth heate by kinde?
If Loue were past, my life would soone decay,
Loue bids me hoape, and hoape is all my stay.
And you, that sée in what estate I stand,
Now hote, now colde, and yet am liuing still,
Persuade your selues, Loue hath a mightie hand,
And custome frames, what pleaseth best her wil
A ling’ring vse of Loue hath taught my brest
To harbor strife, and yet to liue in rest.
The man that dwelles farre North, hath seldome harme
With blast of winters wind or nipping frost:
The Negro seldome féeles himselfe too warme
* If he abide within his nature coast;
So, Loue in me a Second Nature is,
And custome makes me thinke my Woes are Blisse.

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Aetna, called in times past Inesia, as Volaterranus witnesseth, is a hollow hill in Sicilia, whose toppe burneth continual∣lie, the fire being maintained with a vaine of brimstone, and other such like Mineralles, which are within the said Moun∣taine. Which notwithstanding, the bottome of the hill is verie pleasant, as well for the aboundance of sweete fruites and flowers, as for the number of freshe springes and foun∣taines. The Poetes faine, that when Iuppiter had with his thunderboltes beaten downe the Gyantes of the earth, which rebelled against heauen, he did forthwith couer and oppresse them all with the weight of this hill Aetna. These thinges being well considered, together with the verse of Horace;

(Deus immortalis haberi*
Dum cupit Empedocles, ardeutem frigidus Aetnam Insiluit)

It may easily appeare, why the Author in this passion compa∣reth his heart vnto the hill.

THere is a monstrous hill in Sicill soyle,
Where workes that limping God, which Vulcan hight,
And rebell Gyantes lurke, whome Ioue did foyle,
When gainst the heau’ns they durst presume to fight;
The toppe thereof breathes cut a burning flame,
And Flora sittes at bottome of the same,
My swelling heart is such an other hill,
Wherein a blinded God beares all the swaye.
And rebell thoughtes resisting reasons skill
Are bound by will from starting thence awaye;
The toppe thereof doth smoake with scalding smart,
And seldome ioyes obtaine the lowest parte.
Yet learne herewith the difference of the twaine:
Empedocles consum’d with Aetnaes fire
When godheade there he sought, but all in vaine:
But this my heart, all flauming with desire,
Embraceth in it selfe an Angels face,
Which beareth rule as Goddesse of the place.

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The Author in this passion accuseth his owne eyes, as the principall or onelie cause of his amorous infeliitie: wl er in his hearte is so oppressed continuallie with euils, which are contrarie in them selues, that reason can beare no swaye in the cause. Therefore in the ende, he instantlie entreatet his Ladie of her speedie fauoure and goodwill, alleaginge what hurte may growe through her longer delaye.

THat thing, wherein mine eyes haue most delight,
Is greatest cause my heart doth suffer paine:
Such is the hurt that comes by wanton sight;
Which reason striues to vanquish all in vaine;
This onely sense, more quicke then all the rest,
Hath kindled holie fire within my brest.
And so my mourning hearte is parching drie
With sending sighes abroade, and keeping care,
That néedes it must consume if longe if lye
In place, where such a flame doth make repare:
This flame is Loue, whome none may well intreate,
But onely shee, for wheme I suffer heate.
Then péerelesse Dame, the ground of all my griefe,
Uoullfe to cure the cause of my complainte:
No fauoue els but thine can yeelde reliefe.
But helpe in time, be ore I further fainte,
” For Daunger growes by lingringe till the last,
” And phisick hath no helpe, when life is past.

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The Authour groundeth this Passion vpon three poyntes. In the first, he sheweth howe he witting and wilfully followeth his owne hurt, with such like words as Medea sometime v∣sed,

* Video meliora, probo{que},
Deteriora sequor, &c.

In the second, he excuseth his fault vpon the maine force and tyrannie of Loue, being the onely gouernour of his wil. And lastly, he humbly entreateth his Lady for the restitu∣tion of his wonted libertie: desiring her not to exact more of him, then his abilitie of bodie or mind can well susteine, according to the olde verse,

Pelle magis rabida nihil est de Vulpe pettendum.
WAs euer man, whose Loue was like to mine?
I follow still the cause of my distresse,
My Hart foreseeing hurte, doth yet encline
To seeke the same, and thinkes the harme the lesse.
In doing thus, you aske me what I ayle:
Against maine force what reason can preuaile?
Loue is the Lord and Signor of my will,
How shall I then dispose of any deede?
By forced Bond, he holdes my freedome still,
He duls each sense, and makes my hart to bleede.
Thou Sacred Nimph, whose vertue wanteth staine,
Agree with Loue, and set me free againe.
Of this my weary Life no day shall fall,
Wherein my penne shall once thy praise forget:
No Night with sleepe shall close mine eyes at all,
Before I make recount of such a debt;
Then force me not to more then well I may,
Besides his Skinne, the For hath nought to pay.

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The inuention of this Passion is borrowed, for the most parte from Seraphine Son. 125. Which beginneth,

Selgran tormento i fier fulmini accesi
Perduti hauessi, e li suoi strali Amore,
I n’ho tanti traffitti in meggio el core,
Che sol da me li potriano esser resi;
Ese de gli ampli mari in terra stesi
Fusse priuo Neptuno, io spando fore
Lagryme tante, che con piùliquore
Potrebbe nuoui mari hauer ripresi; &c.
IF Loue had lost his shaftes, and Ioue downe threw
His thundring boltes, and spent his forked fire,
They onely might recou’red be anew
From out my Hart croswounded with desire;
Or if Debate by Mars were lost a space,
It might be found within the selfe same place;
If Neptunes waues were all dride vp and gone,
My wéeping eyes so many teares distill,
That greater Seas might grow by them alone;
Or if no flame were yet remayning still
In Vulcans forge, he might from out my brest
Make choise of such as should befit him best,
If Aeole were depriu’d of all his charge,
Yet soone could I restore his windes againe,
By sobbing sighes, which sorth I blow at large,
To moue her mind that pleasures in my paine;
What man, but I, could thus encline his will
To liue in Loue, which hath no end of ill?

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That the vulgar sorte may the better vnderstand this Passiō, I will briefly touch those, whom the Author nameth herein, being al camned soules (as the Poets faine) & destinate vnto sundrie punishmentes. Tantalus hauing his lippes still at the brinke of the riuer Eridanus, yet dieth for thirst. Ixion is ti∣ed vnto a wheele; which turneth incessantly. A vulture fee∣eth vpon the bowels of Tityus, which growe vp againe e∣uer as they are deuoured. Sisyphus rowleth a great rounde stoane vp a steepe hill, which being once at the top presēt∣ly falleth downe amaine. Belides are fifty sisters, whose con∣tinuall taske is, to fill a bottomlesse tub full of water, by la∣ding in their pitchers full at once.

IN that I thirst for such a Goddesse grace
As wantes remorse, like Tantalus I die;
My state is equall to Ixions case,
Whose rented limm’s ar turn’d eternally,
In that my tossing toyles can haue no end,
Nor time, nor place, nor chaūce will stand my friend.
In that my heart consuming neuer dyes,
I féele with Tityus an equall payne,
On whome an euer feeding Uultur lyes;
In that I ryse through hope, and fall againe
By feare, like Sisyphus I labour still
To turle a rowling stoane against the hill;
In that I make my vowes to her alone,
Whose eares are deafe, and will reteine no sound,
With Belides my state is all but one,
Which sill a tub, whose bottome is not sound.
A wondrous thing, y Loue should make the wound,
Wherein a second Hell may thus be found.

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Loue hath two arrowes, as Cōradus Celtis witnesseth in these two verses:

Per matris astrum, & per fera spicula,
Quae bina fert saeuus Cupido, &c.*

The one is made of leade, the other of golde, and either of them different in quality from the other. The Authour ther∣fore faineth in this Passion, that when Cupid had strokē him with that of lead, soone after pittying his painefull estate, he thought good to strike his beloued with the other. But her brest was so hard, that the shaft rebounding backe againe, wounded Lone him selfe at vnawares. Wherehence fell out these three inconueniences; first, that Loue himselfe be∣came her thrall, whome hee shoulde haue conquered; then, that she became proud, where she should haue been friēdly. and lastly, that the Authour by this meanes despaireth to haue any recure of his vnquiet life, & therefore desireth a spee die death, as alluding to those sētētious verses of Sophocles*,

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

which may be thus Englished paraphrastically.

What can it him auaile to liue a while,
Whome, of all others, euilles are betyde?
LOue hath two shaftes, the one of beaten gold,
By stroake wherof a sweete effect is wrought:
The other is of lumpishe leaden mould,
And worketh none effect, but what is nought;
Within my brest the latter of the twaine
Breades feare, feare thought, and thought a lasting paine,
One day amongst the rest sweete Loue beganne
To pitty mine estate, and thought it best
To perce my Deare with golde, that she might scanne
My case aright, and turne my toyles to rest:
But from her brest more hard then hardest flint
His shafte flewe backe, and in him selfe made printe.
And this is cause that Loue doth stoup her lure,
Whose heart he thought to conquere for my sake;
That she is proude; and I without recure:
Which triple hurte doth cause my hope to quake:
Hoape lost breedes griefe, griefe paine, and paine disease,
Disease bringes death, which death will onely please.

Page  [unnumbered]


This Passion is of like frame and fashion with that, which was before vnder the number of XLI. whetherto I referre the Reader. But touching the sense or substance of this Passion, it is euident, that herein the Authour, by layinge open the long continued grieuesomnes of his misery in Loue, seeketh to moue his Mistres to some compassion.

MY humble sute hath set my minde on pride,
Which pride is cause thou hast me in disdaine,
By which disdaine my woundes are made so wide,
That widenesse of my woundes augmentes my paine,
Which Paine is cause, by force of secreate iarres,
That I sustaine a brunt of priuate Warres.
But cease deere Dame to kindle further strife,
Let Strifes haue ende, and Peace enioy their place;
If Peace take place, Pitie may saue my life,
For Pitie should be show’ne to such as trace
Most daung’rous wayes, and tread their stepp’s awry,
Or liue in woes: and such a one am I.
Therefore My Deere Delight regard my Loue,
Whome Loue doth force to follow Fond Desire,
Which Fond Desire no counsell can remoue;
For what can counsell doe, to quench the fire
That fires my hart through fancies wanton will?
” Fancie by kind with Reason striueth still.

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In the first and second part of this passion, the Author pro∣ueth by examples, or rather by manner of argument, A ma∣iori ad minus, that he may with good reason yeeld him selfe to the imperie of Loue, whome the gods them selues obey; as Iuppiter in heauen, Neptune in the seas, and Pluto in hell. In the last staffe he imitateth certaine Italian verses of M.

Girolamo Parabosco; which are, as followeth.
Occhi tuoi, anzi stelle alme, & fatali,
Oe ha prescritto il ciel mio mal, mio bene:
Mie lagrime, e sospir, mio riso, e canto;*
Mia spene, mio timor; mio foco & giaccio;
Mia noia, mio piacer; mia vita & morte.
WHo knoweth not, how often Venus sonne
Hath forced Iuppiter to leaue his seate?
Or els, how often Neptune he hath wunne
From seaes to sandes, to play some wanton feate?
Or, howe he hath constraind the Lord of Stix
To come on earth, to practise louing trickes?
If heau’n, if seaes, if hell must néedes obay,
And all therein be subiect vnto Loue;
What shall it then auaile, if I gainsay,
And to my double hurt his pow’r do proue?
No, no, I yéeld my selfe, as is but meete:
For hetherto with sow’r he yéeldes me sweet.
From out my Mistres eyes, two lightsome starres,
He destinates estate of double kinde,
My teares, my smyling cheere; my peace, my warres;
My sighes, my songes; my feare, my hoping minde;
My fyre, my frost; my ioy, my sorrowes gall;
My curse, my prayse; my death, but life with all.

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This Latine passion is borrowed from Petrarch Sonett 133. which beginneth.

Hor, ch’l ciel, e la terra e’l vento tace,
E le fere, e gli augelli il sonno affrena,
Notte’l carro stellato in giro mena,
E nel suo letto il mar senz’ onda giace; &c.
Wherein he imitated Virgill, speaking of Dido, thus.
Nox erat, et tacitum carpebant fessa soporem
Corpora &c.

And this Author presumeth, vpon the paines he hath taken, in faithfully translating it, to place it amongst these his owne passions, for a signe of his greate sufferance in loue.

DVm coelum, dum terra tacet, ventus{que} silescit,
Dum{que} feras, volucres{que} quies complectitur alta,
Nox{que} agit in gyrum stellantes sydere currus,
In{que} suo lecto recubat sine flumine Pontus,
Multa ego contemplor; studeo; conflagro; gemisco
Et, mea quae dulcis paena est, mihi semper oberr••
In me bella gero plenus{que} doloris & irae,
Pax{que} mihi modica est Laurae solius in vmbra,
Oritur ex vno claro mihi fonte & acerbum,
Et quod dulce sapit; quorum depascor vtr{que}
Vnica me{que} manus ladit, laeso{que} medetur,
Martyrium{que} meum nullo quia limite clausum est,
Mille neces pacior, vitas totidem{que} resumo
Quoque die; superest{que} mihi spes nulla salutis.

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A man singuler for his learning, and magistrate of no small ac∣coumpt, vpon slight suruey of this booke of passions, eyther for the liking he had to the Author, or for his owne priuate pleasure, or for some good he conceyued of the worke, voutchsafed with his own hand to set down certaine posies concerning the same: Amongst which, this was one, Loue hath no leaden heeles. Whereat the Author glaunceth throughout al this Sonnet; which he purposely compyled at the presse, in remembrance of his worshipfull frend, and in honour of his golden posie.

WHen Cupid is content to keepe the skies,
He neuer takes delight in standing still,
But too and froe, and eu’ry where he flies,
And eu’ry God subdueth at his will,
As if his boaw were like to Fortunes wheele,
Him selfe like her, hauing no leaden heele.
When other whiles he passeth Lemnos Ile,
Unhappy boy he gybes the*Clubfoote Smith,
Who threatens him, and bids him stay a while,
But laughing out he leaues him he forthwith,
And makes him selfe companion with the Wind
To shew, his heeles are of no leaden kinde.
But in my selfe I haue too trewe a proofe:
For when he first espyde my raunging Heart,
He Falcon like came sowsing from aloofe.
His swiftly falling stroake encreast my smart:
As yet my Heart the violence it feeles,
Which makes me say, Loue hath no leaden heeles.

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The Author hath wrought this passion out of certaine verses of Stephanus Forcatulus, which are these,

Cor mihi punxit amor, sed punxit praepete telo;
figitur hoc tum plus, cum magis exeutio. &c.
Carpere dictamum Cretoea nil iuuet Ida,
quo vellunt cerui spicula fixa leues,
Telephus haec eadem fatalia vulnera sensit,
sanare vt tantum, quifacit illa, queat.

And whereas the Author in the end of this passion, alludeth to the woundes of Telephus, he is to be vnderstoode of that Telephus, the Sonne of Hercules,of whose wounde, being made and healed by Achilles onely, Ouid writeth thus.

Vulnus Achillaeo quod quondam fecerat hosti,*
Vulneris auxilium Pelias hasta tulit
And propertius in like maner lib. 2.
Mysus et Haemonia iuuenis qui cuspide vulnus
Senserat, hac ipsa cuspide sensit opem.

Suidas mentioneth an other Telephus, an excellent Grāmarian of Pergamus.

IN secrete seate and centre of my hearte,
Unwares to me, not once suspecting ill,
Blinde Cupides-hand hath fixt a deadly dart,
Whereat how ere I plucke, it sticketh still,
And workes effect like those of Arab soyle,
Whose heades are dipt in poyson steed of oyle.
If’t were like those, wherewith in Ida plaine
The Craetan hunter woundes the chased deere,
I could with Dictame drawe it out againe,
And cure me so, that skarre should scarce appeare:
* Or if Alcides shaft did make me bleed,
Machaons art would stand me in some steede.
But being, as it is, I must compare
With fatall woundes of Telephus alone,
And say, that he, whose hand hath wrought my care,
Must eyther cure my fatall wounde, or none:
Helpe therefore gentle Loue to ease my heart,
Whose paines encrease, till thou withdraw thy dart.

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In the first staffe of this Passion, The Authour as one more then halfe drowping with despaire, sorowfully recounteth some particular causes of his vnhappinesse in Loue. In the residue, he entreateth a better aspecte of the Planets, to the end, that either his life may bee inclined to a more happie course, or his death be hastned, to end all his misery at once.

MY ioyes are donne, my comfort quite dismay’d,
My weary wittes bewitch’t with wanton will,
My will by Fancies headeles faulte betrayd,
Whose eyes on Beauties face are fixed still,
And whose conceyte Folly hath clouded soe,
That Loue concludes, my heart must liue in woe.
But change aspect ye angry starres aboue,
And powrs diuine restore my liberty,
Or graunte that soone I may enioye my Loue,
Before my life incurre more misery:
For nowe so hotte is each assault I feele
As woulde dissolue a heart more harde then steele.
Or if you needes must worke my deadly smart,
Performe your charge by hasting on my death
In sight of her, whose eyes enthrall my heart:
Both life and death to her I doe bequeath,
In hope at last, she will voutsafe to say,
I rewe his death, whose life I made away,

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In this passion the Authour some what a farre off imitateth an Ode in Gervasius Sepinus written to Cupid, where hee begin∣neth thus:

Quid tenelle puer, Pharetra vbinam est?
Vbi arcus referens acuta Lunae*
Bina cornua? vbi flagrans Amoris
fax? vbi igneus ille arcus, in quo
De ipsis Coelicolis, viris{que} victis
Vinctis{que} ante iugum aureus triumphas?
Haud possent tua summa numina vnam,
Vnam vincere Virginem tenellam?
Qui fortes animos pudicae Elisae
Fortioribus irrigans venenis
Vicisti: &c.
CVpid, where is thy golden quiuer nowe?
Where is thy sturdy Bowe? and where the fire,
Which made ere this the Gods themselues to bow?
Shall she alone, which forceth my Desire,
Report or thinke thy Godhead is so small,
That she through pride can scape from being thrall?
Whilom thou ouercam’st the stately minde
Of chast Elisa queene of Carthage land,
And did’st constraine Pasiphae gainst her kind,
And broughtest Europa faire to Creta sande,
Quite through the swelling Seas, to pleasure Ioue,
Whose heau’nly heart was touch’t with mortall loue.
Thus wert thou wunt to shewe thy force and slight,
By conqu’ring those that were of highest race,
Where nowe it seemes thou changest thy delight,
Permitting still, to thy no small disgrace,
A virgin to despise thy selfe, and me,
Whose heart is hers, where ere my body be.

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The Authour writeth this Sonnet vnto his very friend, in ex∣cuse of his late change of study, manners, and delights, all happening through the default of Loue. And here by exam∣ples he proueth vnto him, (calling him by the name of Ti∣tus, as if him selfe were Gysippus) that Loue not onely wor∣keth alteration in the mindes of men, but also in the very Gods them selues; and that so farre forth, as first to drawe them from their Celestiall seates and functions, and then to ensnare them with the vnseemely desire of mortall crea∣tures, a Passion ill befitting the maiesty of their Godheads.

ALas deere Titus mine, my auncient frend,
What makes thee muse at this my present plight,
To sée my woonted ioyes enioy their end
And how my Muse hath lost her old delight?
” This is the least effect of Cupids dart,
” To change the minde by wounding of the heart.
Alcides fell in loue as I haue done,
And layd aside both club and Lions skinne:
Achilles too when he faire Bryses wunne,
To fall from warres to wooing did beginne.
Nay, if thou list, suruey the heau’ns aboue,
And sée how Gods them selues are chang’d by Loue▪
Ioue steales from skies to lye by Laedaes side;
Arcas descendes for faire Aglaurus sake,
And Sol, so soone as Daphne is espied,
To followe her his Chariot doth forsake:
No meruaile then although I change my minde,
Which am in loue with one of heau’nly kinde.

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In this Sonnet The Authour seemeth to specifie, that his Belo∣ued maketh her aboade in this our beautifull and faire Citty of London, situate vpon the side of the Themse, called in la∣tine Thamesis. And therefore, whilst he faineth, that Thame∣sis is honourably to be conueyed hence by all the Gods, to∣wardes the Palace of old Nereus, he seemeth to growe into some iealosie of his mistres, whose beautie if it were as well known to thē, as it is to him, it would (as he saith) both de∣serue more to be honoured by thē, and please Tryton much better, then Thamesis, although she be the fairest daughter of old Oceanus.

OCeanus not long agoe decreed
To wedd his dearest daughter Thamesis
To Tryton Neptunes sonne, and that with speede:
When Neptune sawe the match was not amisse,
Hee prayde the Gods from highest to the least,
With him to celebrate the Nuptiall feast.
Ioue did descend with all his heau’nly trayne,
And came for Thamesis to London side,
In whose conduct each one imployd his paine
To reuerence the state of such a Bride:
But whilst I sawe her led to Nereus Hall,
My iealous heart begann to throbb withall.
I doubted I, lest any of that crewe,
In fetching Thamesis, shoud see my Loue,
Whose tising face is of more liuely hewe,
Then any Saintes in earth, or heau’n aboue:
Besides, I fear’d, that Tryton would desire
My Loue, and let his Thamesis retyre.

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Here the Author, by faining a quarrell betwixt Loue and his Heart, vnder a shadow expresseth the tyrannie of the one, & the miserie of the other: to sturre vp a just hatred of the ones iniustice, and cause due compassion of the others vn∣happines. But as he accuseth Loue for his readines to hurt, where he may; so he not excuseth his Heart, for desiring a faire imprisonment, when he neded not: thereby specifying in Loue a wilfull malice, in his Heart a heedlesse follie.

I Rue to thinke vpon the dismall day
When Cupid first proclamed open warre
Against my Hearte; which fledde without delay,
But when he thought from Loue to be most farre,
The winged boy preuented him by flight,
And led him captiuelyke from all delight.
The time of triumph being ouerpast,
He scarcely knewe where to bestowe the spoile,
Till through my heedlesse Heartes desire, at last,
He lockt him vp in Tower of endlesse toyle,
Within her brest, whose hardned wil doth vexe
Her silly ghest softer then liquid wex.
This prison at the first did please him well,
And seem’d to be some earthly Paradise,
Where now (alas) Experience doth tell,
That Beawties bates can make the simple wise,
And biddes him blame the bird, that willingly
Cheaseth a golden cage for liberty.

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The Author in this passion, vpō a reason secret vnto him selfe, extolleth his Mistres vnder the name of a Spring. First he preferreth the same before the sacred fount of Diana, which (as Ouid witnesseth 3. Metam:) was in the valley Gargaphie, adioyning to Thaebes: then, before Tagus the famous riuer inSpaine, whose sandes are intermixt with stoare of gold, as may be gathered by those two verses in Martiall lib. 8.

Non illi satis est turbato sordidus auro
Hermus, & Hesperio qui sonat orbe Tagus.

And lastly, before Hippocrene, a fountaine of Boeotia, now called the well of the Muses, & fained by the Poëts, to haue had his source or beginning from the heele of Pegasus the winged horse.

ALthough the droppes, which chaung’d Actaeons shape,
Were halfe diuine, and from a sacred fount;
Though after Tagus sandes the world do gape;
And Hippocrene stand in high account:
Yet ther’s a Spring, whose vertue doth excell
Dianaes fount, Tagus, and Pegase well.
That happie how’r, wherein I found it furst,
And sat me downe adioyning to the brinke,
My sowe it selfe, suppris’d with vnknow’n thurst,
Did wish it lawfull were thereof to drinke;
But all in vaine: for Loue did will me stay
And waite a while in hope of such a pray.
This is that Spring quoth he, where Nectar flowes,
Whse liquor is of price in heaun’s aboue;
This is the Spring, wherein swete Venus showes,
By secrete baite how Beautie forceth Loue.
Why then, quoth I, deere Loue how shall I mend,
Or quench my thurst, vnlesse thou stand my frend?

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In this passion the Authour boroweth from certaine Latine verses of his owne, made long agoe vpon the loue abuses of Iuppiter in a certaine peece of worke written in the com∣mendation of women kinde; which he hath not yet wholie perfected to the print. Some of the verses may be thus ci∣ted to the explaining of this passion, although but lamelie.

Accipe vt ignaram candentis imagine Tauri
Luserit Europam ficta &c.
Quà nimio Semelen fuerit complexus amore. &c.
Quali & Asterien aequilinis presserit alis:
Quoque dolo laedam ficto sub olore fefellit.
Adde quòd Antiopam Satyri sub imagine &c.
Et fuit Amphytrio, cum te Trynthia &c.
Aegmae{que} duos ignis sub imagine natos &c.
Parrhasiam fictae pharetra Vultu{que} Dianae,
Mnemosynen pastor; serpens Deoïda lusit. &c.
Ouid writeth somewhat in like manner Metam. lib. 6.
NOt she, whom Ioue transported into Crete;
Nor Semele, to whom he vow’d in hast;
Nor she, whose flanckes he fild with fayned heate;
Nor whome with Aegles winges he oft embrast;
Nor Danaë, beguyl’d by golden rape;
Nor she, sor whome he tooke Dianaes shape;
Nor fai e Antiopa, whose fruitefull loue
He gayned Satyr like; nor she, whose Sonne
To wanton Hebe was conioyn’d aboue;
Nor sweete Mnemosyne, whose loue he wunne
In shepheardes wéede; no such are like the Saint,
whose eyes enforce my feeble heart to faint.
And Ioue him selfe may storme, if so he please,
To heare me thus compare my Loue with his:
No forked fire, nor thunder can disease
This heart of mine, where stronger torment is:
But O how this surpasseth all the rest,
That she, which hurtes me most, I loue her best.

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In this Sonnet the Author being, as it were, in halfe a mad∣ding moode, falleth at variance with Loue himselfe, & blas∣phemeth his godheade, as one that can make a greater wounde, then afterwardes he him selfe can recure. And the chiefe cause that he setteth downe, why he is no longer to hope for helpe at Loues hande, is this, because he him selfe could not remedie the hurt which he susteyned by the loue of faire Psyches.*

THou foolish God the Author of my griefe,
If Psyches beames could set thy heart on fire,
How can I hope, of thée to haue reliefe,
Whose minde with mine doth suffer like desire?
Henceforth my heart shall sacrifice elswhere
To such a Sainte as higher porte doth beare.
And such a Saint is she, whom I adore,
As foyles thy force, and makes thee stand aloofe;
None els, but she, can salue my festred soare;
And she alone will serue in my behoofe:
Then blinded boye, goe packe thee hence away,
And thou Sweet Soule, giue eare to what I say.
And yet what shall I say? straunge is my case,
In mid’st of froast to burne, and freze in flame:
Would Gods I neuer had beheld thy face,
Or els, that once I might possesse the same:
Or els that chaunce would make me free againe,
Whose hand helpt Loue to bring me to this paine.

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The chiefe contentes of this Passion are taken out of Seraphine Sonnet, 132.

Col tempo passa gli anni, imesi, e l’ hore,
Col tempo le richeze, imperio, e regno,
Col tempo fama, honor, fortezza, e ingegno,
Col tem ogiouentu con belta more &c,

But this Authour inuerteth the order, which Seraphine vseth, some times for his rimes sake, but for the most part, vp on some other more allowable consideration.

TIme wasteth yeeres, and month’s, and howr’s:
Time doth consume fame, honour, witt, and strength:
Time kills the greenest Herbes and sweetest flowr’s:
Time weares out youth and beauties lookes at length:
Time doth conuey to ground both foe and friend,
And each thing els but Loue, which hath no end.
Time maketh eu’ry tree to die and rott:
Time turneth ofte our pleasures into paine:
Time causeth warres and wronges to be forgott:
Time cleares the skie, which first hung full of rayne:
Time makes an end of all humane desire,
But onely this, which settes my heart on fire.
Time turneth into naught each Princely state:
Time brings a fludd from newe resolued snowe:
Time calmes the Sea where tempest was of late:
Time eates what ere the Moone can see belowe:
And yet no time preuailes in my behoue,
Nor any time can make me cease to loue.

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This Passion concerneth the lowring of his Mistres and here∣in for the most part the Authour imitateth Agnola firenzuola; who vpon the like subiect, writeth as followeth,

O belle donne, prendam pietade
Dimepur hor’ in talpa trasformato
D’huom, che pur dianza ardiua mirar fis
Come Aquila il sol chiar in paradiso.
Cosi va’l mondo, e cosi spesso accade
A chisi fida in amoroso stato, &c.
VVHat scowling cloudes haue ouercast the skie,
That these mine eies can not, as woonte they were,
Beholde their second Sunne intentiuely?
Some strange Eclipse is hap’ned as I feare,
Whereby my Sunne is either baid of light,
Or I my selfe haue lost my seeing quite.
Most likely soe since Loue him selfe is blinde.
And Venus too (perhaps) will haue it so,
That Louers wanting sight shall followe kinde.
O then faire Danies bewaile my present woe,
Which thus am made a moale, and blindefolde runne
Where Aegle like I late beheld the Sunne.
But out alas, such guerdon is assignde
To all that loue and followe Cupids carre:
He tyres their limines and doth bewitch their minde,
And makes within them selues a lasting warre.
Reason with much adoe doth teach me this,
Though yet I cannot mend what is a misse.

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The Auhour in this Passion seemeth vppon mislike of his wea∣risome estate in loue to enter into a deepe discourse with him selfe touching the particular miseries which befall him that loueth. And for his sense in this place, hee is very like vnto him selfe, where in a Theame diducted out of the bow∣elles ofAntigone in Sophocles (which he lately translated into Latine, and published in print) he writeth in very like man∣ner as followeth.

Mali quando Cupidimis
Venas aestus edax occupat intimas,
Artes ingenium labitur in malas;
Iactatur variè, nec Cereris subit
Nec Bacchi studium; peruigiles trahit
Noctes; eura animum sollicita atterit, &c.

And it may appeare by the tenour of this Passion that the Au∣thour prepareth him selfe to fall from Loue and all his lawes as will well appeare by the sequell of his other Passions that followe, which are all made vpon this Posie, My Loue is past.

” VVHere heate of loue doth once possesse the heart,
” There cares oppresse the minde with wondrous ill,
Wit runns awrye not fearing future smarte,
” And fond desire doth euermaster will:
” The belly neither cares for meate nor drinke,
” Nor ouer watched eyes desire to winke:
Footsteps are false, and waur’ing too and froe;
” The brightsome flow’r of beauty fades away:
Reason retyres, and pleasure brings in woe:
” And wisedome yeldeth place to black decay:
Counsell, and fame, and friendship are contem’nd:
” And bashfull shame, and Gods them selues condem’nd.
” Watchfull suspect is linked with despaire:
” Inconstant hope is often drown’d in feares:
” What folly hurtes not fortune can repayre;
” And misery doth swimme in Seas of teares:
” Long vse of life is but a lingring ioe,
” And gentle death is only end of woe.

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ALL such as are but of indifferēt capacitie, and haue some skill in Arithmetike, by viewing this Sonnet following compiled by rule and number, into the forme of a piller, may soone iudge, howe much art & study the Author hath bestowed in the same. Where in as there are placed many preaty obseruations, so these which I will set downe, may be marked for the principall, if any man haue such idle leasure to looke it ouer, as the Authour had, whē he framed it. First therfore it is to be noted, that the whole piller (except [ 1] the basis or foote thereof) is by relation of either halfe to the other Antitheticallor Antisillabicall. Secondly, how this posie (Amare est insanire) rūneth twyse through out ye Columne, if ye gather but the first letter of euery whole verse orderly (excepting the two last) and then in like manner take but the last letter of euery one of the [ 3] said verses, as they stand. Thirdly is to bee obserued, that euery verse, but the two last, doth end with the same letter it beginneth, and yet through out the whole a true rime is perfectly obserued, al∣though [ 4]not after our accustomed manner. Fourthly, that the foote of the piller is Orchematicall, ye is to say, founded by transilition or ouer skipping of number by rule and order, as from 1 to 3, 5, 7, & 9: the secret vertue whereof may be learned in*Tithemius, as namely by tables of transilition to decypher any thing that is writ∣ten by secret transposition of letters, bee it neuer so cunningly con∣ueighed. And lastly, this obseruation is not to be neglected, that [ 5] when all the foresaide particulars are performed, the whole piller is but iust 18. verses, as will appeare in the page following it, Per modum expansionis.

Page  [unnumbered]

LXXXI A Pasquine Piller erected in the despite of Loue.

A 1 At
2 last, though
3 late, farewell
4 olde well a da: A
m 5 Mirth or mischance strike
a 6 vp a newe alarM, And m
7 Cypria la nemica
r 8 miA Retire to Cyprus Ile, a
e 9 & cease thy waRR, Els must thou proue how r
E 10 Reason can by charmE Enforce to flight thy e
s 11 blindsolde bratte & thee. So frames it with mee now, E
t 12 that I confesS, The life I ledde in Loue deuoyde
I 12 of resT, It was a Hell, where none felte more then I, •••
n 11 Nor anye with lyke miseries forlorN. Since n
s 10 therefore now my woes are wexed lesS, And s
a 9 Reason bidds mee leaue olde welladA, a
n 8 No longer shall the worlde laughe mee
i 7 to scorN; I’le choose a path that n
r 6 shall not leade awrie. Rest i
5 then with mee from your
4 blinde Cupids carR r
e. 3 Each one of
2 you, that
1 serue,
3 and would be
5 srcE. H’is dooble thrall e.*
7 that liu’s as Loue thinks best, whose
9 hande still Tyrant like to hurte is preste.

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LXXXII Expansio Columnae praecedentis.

A At last, though late, farewell olde wellada; A
m Mirth for mischaunce strike vp a newe alarm; m
a And Ciprya la nemica mia a
r Retyre to Cyprus Ile and cease thy warr, r
e Els must thou proue how Reason can by charme e
E Enforce to flight thy blyndfold bratte and thee. E
s So frames it with me now, that I confess s
t The life I ledde in Loue deuoyd of est t
I It was a Hell, where none felt more then I, I
n Nor any with like miseries forlorn. n
s Since therefore now my wors are wexed less, s
a And Reason bids me leaue olde wel••da, a
n No longer shall the world laugh me to scorn: n
i I’le choose a path that shall not leade awri. i
r Rest then with me from your blinde Cupids carr r
e. Each one of you, that serue and would be free.
H’is double thrall that liu’s as Loue thinks best
” Whose hand still Tyrant like to hurt is prest.*

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In this Sonnet the Author hath imittaed one of Rionsardes*Odes; which beginneth thus.

Les Muses lierent vn iour
De chaisnes de roses Amour,
Et pour le garder, le donnerent
Aus Graces & à la Beautè:
Qui voyans sa desloyautè,
Sus Parnasl’ emprisonnerent. &c.
THe Muses not long since intrapping Loue
In chaies of roases linked all araye,
Gaue Beawrie charge to watch in there behoue
With Graces three, lest he should wend awaye:
Who fearing yet he would escape at last,
On high Parnaslus toppe they clapt him fast.
When Venus vnderstoode her Sonne was thrall,
She made post haste to haue God Vulcans ayde,*
Solde him her Gemmes, and Ceston therewithall,
To ransome home her Sonne that was betraide;
But all in ame. the Muses made no stoare
Of gold, but bound him faster then before.
Therefore all you, whom Loue did ere abuse,
Come clappe your handes with me, to see him thrall,
Whose former deedes no reason can ercuse,
For killing those which hurt him not at all:
My selfe by him was lately led awrye,
Though now at last I force my loue to dye.

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The Authour in this Sonnet expresseth his mallice towardes Venus and her Sonne Cupid, by currying fauour with Diana, and by suing to haue the selfe same office in her walkes and forrest, which sometimes her chast and best beloued Hippo∣kins enioyed. Which Hippolitus (as Seruius witnesseth) dyed by the false deceipt of his Stepmother Phaedra, for not yeel∣ding ouer himselfe vnto her incestuous loue: whereuppon Senca writeth thus,

Iuuenis{que} castus crimine incestae iacet,
Pudicus, insons.
DIana, since Hippolytus is deade,
Let me enioy thy fauour, and his place:
My might through will shall stand thée in some steade,
To driue blinde Loue and Venus from thy chase:
For where they lately wrought me miekle woe,
I vow me nowe to be theire mortall foe.
And doe thou not mistrust my chastetie,
When I shall raunge amidst thy virgine traine:
My raynes are chastned so through miserie,
That Loue with me can nere preuaile againe:
” The childe, whose finger once hath felt the fire,
” To playe therewith will haue but sinale desire.
Besides, I vow to heare a watchful eye,
Discou’ring such, as passe along thy groue;
If Iuppiter him selfe come loytring by,
Ile call thy crew, and bid them fly from Ioue;
For if they stay, he will obtaine at last,
What now I loathe, because my loue is past.

Page  [unnumbered]


The cheifest substance of this Sonnet is borrowed out of cer∣teine Latin verses of Strozza a noble man of Italy, and one of the best Poëts in all his age: who in describing Metapho∣rically to his friend Antonius the true forme of his amorous estate, writeth thus:

Vnda hic sunt Lachrima, Venti suspiria, Remi
Vota, Error velum, Mens malesana Ratis;
Spes Temo, Curae Comites, Constantia Amoris
Est malus, Dolor est Anchora, Nauita Amor, &c.
THe souldiar worne with warres, delightes in peace;
The pilgrime in his ease, when toyles are past;
The ship to gayne the porte, when stormes doe cease;
And I reioyce, from Loue dischargd at last;
Whome while I seru’d, peace, rest, and land I lost,
With grieusome wars, with toyles, with storm’s betost.
Sweete liberty nowe giues me leaue to sing,
What worlde it was, where Loue the rule did beare;
Howe oolish Chaunce by lottes rul’d euery thing;
” Howe Error was maine saile; each waue a Teare;
” The master, Loue him selfe; deepe sighes were winde;
Cares rowd with vowes the ship vumery minde.
False hope as healme oft turn’d the boat about;
Inconstant faith stood vp for middle maste
Despaire the cable twisted all with Doubt
” Held Griping Griefe the pyked Anchor fast;
Beautie was all the rockes. But I at last,
” Am now twise free, and all my loue is past.

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The sense of this Sonnet is for the most part taken out of a let∣ter, which Aeneas Syluius wrote vnto his friend, to persuade him, that albeit he lately had published the wanton loue of Lucretia and Euryalus, yet hee liked nothing lesse then such fond Loue; and that he nowe repented him of his owne la∣bour ouer idlely bestowed in describing the same.

SWeete liberty restores my woonted ioy,
And bids me tell, how painters set to viewe
The forme of Loue They painte him but a Boy,
As working most in mindes of youthfull crewe:
They set him naked all, as wanting shame
To keepe his secret partes or t’ hide the same.
They paint him blinde in that he cannot spy
What diffrence is twixt vertue and default
With Boe in hand, as one that doth defie,
And cumber heedelesse heartes with fierce assault:
His other hand both hold a brand of fire,
In signe of heate he makes through hot desire.
They giue him winges to flie from place to place,
To note that all are wau’ring like the winde,
Whose liberty fond Loue doth vnce deface.
This forme to Loue old paynters haue assignd:
Whose fond effects if any list to proue,
Where I make end, let them begin to Loue.

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The Authour in the firste staffe of this Sonnet, expresseth how Loue first went beyond him, by persuading him that all was golde which glistered. In the second, hee telleth, how time broughte hym to trueth, and Trueth to Reason: by whose good counsell he found the way from worse to better, & did ouergoe the malice of blinde Fortune. In the third staffe, he craueth pardon at euery man for the offences of his youth; and to Loue, the onely cause of his long errour, hee geueth his vltimum ale.

YOuth made a fault through lightnes of Beléefe,
Which fond Beleefe Loue placed in my brest:
But now I finde, that Reason giues〈◊〉;
And time shewes Trueth, and Wit, thats bought, it best;
Muse not therefore although I chaunge my vaine,
He runnes too farre which neuer turnes againe.
Henceforth my mind shall haue a watchfull eye,
Ile scorne Fond Loue, and practise or the same:
The wisedome of my hart shall soone descie
Each thing thats good, from what deserueth blame:
My song shalbe; Fortune hath sptte her spight,
And Loue can hurt no more withall his might.
Therefore all you, to whome my coure is knowne,
Thinke better comes, and pardon what is past:
I find that all my wildest Oates are sowne,
And Ioy to see, what now I see at last;
And since that Loue was cause I trode a wry,
I heere take off his Bels, and let him flie.

Page  [unnumbered]


This whole Sonnet is nothing els but a briefe and pithy mo∣rall, and made after the selfe same vaine with that, which is last before it. The two first staffes, (excepting onely the two first verses of all) expresse the Authours alteration of minde & life, and his change from his late vaine estate and follies in loue, by a metaphore of the shipmā, which by shipwrakes chaunce is happely restoared on a sodeine vnto that land, which he a long time had most wished for.

I Long maintayned warre gainst Reasons rule,
I wandred pilgrime like in Errors maze,
I sat in Follies ship, and playde the foole,
Till on Repentance rocke hir sides did craze:
Herewith I learne by hurtes alreadie past,
” That each extreme will change it selfe at last.
This shipwrackes chance hath set me on a shelfe,
Where neither Loue can hurte me any more,
Nor Fortunes hand, though she enforce her selfe;
Discretion graunts to set me safe on shoare,
Where guile is fettred fast and wisedome rules,
To punish heedeles hearts and wilfull fooles.
And since the heau’ns haue better lot assign’d,
I feare to burne, as hauing felte the fire;
And proofe of harmes so changed hath my minde,
That witt and will to Reason doe retyre:
Not Venus nowe, nor Loue with all his snares
Can drawe my witts to woes at vnawares.

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The two first staffes of this Sonnet are altogether sententiall, and euerie one verse of them is grownded vpon a diuerse reason and authoritie from the rest. I haue thought good for breuitie sake, onelie to set downe here the authorities, with figures, whereby to applie euerie one of them to his due lyne in order as they stand. 1. Hieronimus: In delicijs difficile est seruare castitatem. 2 Ausonius: dispulit inconsultus amor &c. 3. Seneca: Amor est ociosae causa sollicitudinis. 4. Proper∣tius: Errat, qui finem vesani quaerit amoris. 5. Horatius: Semper ardentes acuēs sagittas. 6. Xenophon scribit amorem esse igne, & flamma flagrantiorem, quòd ignis vrat tangentes, et proxima tantū cremet, amor ex longinquo spectante torreat. 7. Calenti: Plurima Zelotipo sunt in amore mala. 8. Ouidius: Inferet arma tibi saeua re∣bellis amor. 9. Pontanus: Si vacuum sineret perfidiosus amor. 10. Marullus: Quid tantum lachrimis meis proterue Insultas puer? 11. Tibullus: At lasciuus amor rixae mala verba ministrat. 12. Virgi∣lius: Bellum saepe petit ferus exitiale Cupido.

LOue hath delight in sweete delicious fare;*
Loue neuer takes good Counsell for his frende;
Loue author is, and cause of ydle care;
Loue is distraught of witte, and hath no end;
Loue shoteth shaftes of burning hote desire;
Loue burneth more then eyther flame or fire;
Loue doth much harme through Iealosies assault;
Loue once embrast will hardly part againe;
Loue thinkes in breach of faith there is no fault;
Loue makes a sporte of others deadly paine;
Loue is a wanton Childe, and loues to brall;
Loue with his warre bringes many soules to thrall.
These are the smallest faultes that lurke in Loue,
These are the hurtes which I haue cause to curse to curse,
These are those truethes which no man can disproue,
These are such harmes as none can suffer worse.
All this I write, that others may beware,
Though now my selfe twise frée from all such care.

Page  [unnumbered]


In this Latine passion, the Authour translateth, as it were, pa∣raphrastically the Sonnet of Petrarch, which beginneth thus.

Tennemi Amor anni vent’ vno ardendo,*
Lieto nel foco, enel duol pien dispeme. &c.

But to make it serue his owne turne, he varieth from Petrarches wordes, where he declareth, howe manie yeares he liued in loue, as well before, as since the death of his beloued Lawra. Vnder which name also the Authour, in this Sonnet, speci∣fieth her, whom he lately loued.

ME sibi ter binos annos vnum▪ subegit
Diuus Amor; latus{que} fui, licet ignibus arsi;
Spem{que} habui certam, curis licèt ictus acerbis.
Iam{que} duos alios exutus amore perêgi,
Ac si sydereos mea Laura volârit in orbes,
Duxerit et secum veteris penetralia cordis.
Pertaesum tandem vitae me panitet actae,
Et pudet erroris peè absumpsisse sub vmbra
Semina virtutum. Sed qua pars vltima restat,
Supplice mente tibi tandem, Deus alte, repono,
Et malè transactae deploro temporae vitae,
Cuius agendus erat meliori tramite cursus,
Litis in arcendae studijs, et pace colenda.
Ergò summe Deus, per quem sum clausus in isto
Carcere, ab aeterno saluum fac esse periclo.

Page  [unnumbered]


In the latter part of this Sonnet the Authour imitateth those verses of Horace. Me tabula saeer

Votiua paries indicat vuida
Suspendisse potenti
Vestimenta maris Deo.*

Whom also that renowned Florentine M. Agnolo Firenzola did imitate long agoe, both in like manner and matter, as followeth.

O miseri coloro,
Che non prouar di donna fede mai:
Il pericol, ch’io corsi
Nel tempestoso mar, nella procella
Del lor cradel Amore,
Mostrar lo può lataeuoletta posta,
Ele vesti ancor molli
Sospese al tempio del horrendo Dio
Di questo mar crudele.
YE captiue soules of blindefold Cyprians boate,
Marke with aduise in what estate yee stande,
Your Boteman neuer whistles mearie noate,
And Folly keeping sterne, still puttes from lande,
And makes a sport to tosse you to and froe
Twixt sighing windes, and surging waues of woe.
On Beawties rocke she runnes you at her will,
And holdes you in suspense twixt hope and feare,
Where dying oft, yet are you liuing still,
But such a life, as death much better were;
Be therefore circumspect, and follow me,
When Chaunce, or chaunge of maners sets you frée.
Beware how you returne to seas againe:
Hang up your votiue tables in the quyre
Of Cupids Church, in witnesse of the paine
You suffer now by forced fond desire:
Thou, hang your through wett garmentes on the wall,
And sing with me, That Loue is mixt with gall.

Page  [unnumbered]


Here the Author by comparing the tyrannous delightes and deedes of blinde Cupid with the honest delightes & deedes or other his fellow Goddestes and Gods, doth blesle the time and howre that euer he forsooke to follow him; whom he confesseth to haue bene greate & forcible in his doings, though but litle of stature, and in apparence weakelie. Of all the names here mentioned, Hebe is seldomest redde, wher∣fore know they which know it not alreadie, that Hebe (as Seruius writeth) is Iunoes daughter, hauing no father, & now wife to Hercules, and Goddesse of youth, and youthlie spor∣ting: and was cupbearer to Ioue, till she fell in the presence of all the Goddes, so vnhappelie, that they sawe her priui∣ties, whereupon Ioue being angry, substitutedGanimedes into her office and place.

PHebus delightes to view his Lawrel Tree;
The Popplar pleaseth Hercules alone;
Melisla mother is, and fautrix to the Bee;
Pallas will weare the Oliue branche or none;
Of shepheardes and theire flocke Pales is Quene;
And Cores rypes the corne, was lately gréene;
To Chloris eu’ry flower belonges of right;
The Dryade Nimphs of woodes make chiefe accoumpt;
Oreades in hills haue theire delight;
Diana doth protect each bubblinge Fount;
To Hebe louely kissing is asign’d;
To Zephire eu’ry gentle breathing winde.
But what is Loues delight? to hurt each where:
He cares not whome, with daites of deepe desire,
With watchfull iealosie, with hope, with feare,
With nipping cold, and secrete flames of fire.
O happye howre wherein I did forgoe
This litle God, so greate a cause of woe.

Page  [unnumbered]


In the first and sixt line of this Passion the Authour alludeth to two sentencious verses in Sophocles; whereof the first is,

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉,
O foole, in euills fretting nought auailes.*

The second,*

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
For who can make vndon what once is done?

In the other two staffes following, the Authour pursueth on his matter, beginning and ending euery line with the selfe same sillable he vsed in the first: wherein hee imitateth some Italian Poets, who more to trie their witts, hen for any other conceite, haue written after the like manner.

MY loue is past, woe woorth the day and how’r
When to such folly first I did encline,
Whereof the very thought is bitter sow’r,
And still would hurte, were not my soule diuine,
Or did not Reason teach, that care is vaine
For ill once past, which cannot turne againe.
My Loue is past, blessed the day and how’r.
When from so fond estate I did decline,
Wherein was little sweet with mickle sow’r.
And losse of minde, whose substance is diuine,
Or at the lest, expence of time in vaine,
For which expence no Loue returneth gaine.
My Loue is past, wherein was no good how’r:
When others ioy’d, to cares I did encline,
Whereon I fedde, although the taste were sow’r,
And still beleu’d Loue was some pow’r diuine,
Or some instinct, which could not worke in vaine,
Forgetting, Time well spent was double gaine.

Page  [unnumbered]


In this Passion tho Authour hath but augmented the inuenti∣on of Seraphine, where he writeth in this manner.

Biastemo quando mai le labbra apersi
Per dar nome à costei, che acciò me induce.
Biastemo il tempo, & quanti giorni hò persi
A seguitar si tenebrosa luce:
Biastemo charta, inchiostro, e versi,
Et quanto Amor per me fama gliaduce;
Biastemo quando mai la vidi anchora,
El mese, l’anno, & giorno▪ el punto, & hora.
I Curse the time, wherein these lips of mine
Did praye or praise the Danie that was vnkinde:
I curse both leafe, and yke, and euery line
My hand hath writ, in hope to moue her minde:
I curse her hollowe heart and slattring eyes,
Whose slie deceyte did cause my mourning cryes:
I curse the sugred speach end Syrens song,
Wherewith so oft she hath bewitcht mine eare:
I curse my foolish will, that stay’d so long,
And tooke delight to bide twixte hoape and feare:
I curse the howre, wherein I first began
By louing lookes to proue a witlesse man:
I curse those dayes which I haue spent in vaine,
By seruing such an one as reaches no right:
I curse each cause of all my secret paine,
Though Loue to heare the same haue small delight:
And since the heau’ns my freedome nowe restore,
Hence foorth Ile liue at ease, and loue no more.

Page  [unnumbered]


A Labyrinth is a place made full of turnings & creekes, where∣hence, he that is once gotten in, can hardly get out againe. Of this sorte*Pliny mentioneth foure in the world, which were most noble. One in Crete made by Daedalus, at the com∣maundement of king Minos, to shut vp the Minotaure in: to which monster the Atheniens by league were bound, eue∣ry yeere to send seuen of their children, to bee deuoured; which was perfourmed, till at the last, by the helpe of Ari∣adne, Theseus slewe the monster. An other he mentioneth to haue beene in Aegipt, which also Pomponius Mela describeth in his first booke. The third in Lemnos, wherein were erected a hūdreth & fifty pillers of singuler workmāship. The fourth in Italy, builded by Porsenna king ofHeruria, to serue for his sepulchre. But in this Passion the Authour alludeth vnto that of Crete only.

THough somewhat late, at last I found the way
To leaue the doubtfull Labyrinth of Loue,
Wherein (alas) each minute seemd a day:
Him selfe was Minotaure; whose force to proue
I was enforst, till Reason taught my mind
To slay the beast, and leaue him there behind.
But being scaped thus from out his maze,
And past the dang’rous Denne so full of doubt,
False Theseus like, my credite shall I craze,
Forsaking her, whose hand did helpe me out?
With Ariadne Reason shall not say,
I sau’d his life, and yet he runnes away.
No, no, before I leaue the golden rule,
Or lawes of her, that stoode so much my friend,
Or once againe will play the louing foole,
The sky shall fall, and all shall haue an end:
I wish as much to you that louers be,
Whose paines will passe, if you beware by me.

Page  [unnumbered]


In this Passion, the Authour in skoffing bitterly at Venus, and her sonne Cupid, alludeth vnto certaine verses in Ouid, but in∣uerteth them to an other sense, then Ouid vsed, who wrote them vpon the death of Tibullus. These are the verses, which he imitateth,

Ecce puer Veneris fert euersam{que} phraretram,
Et fractos arcus, & sine luce facem.
Aspice demissis vt eat miserabilis alis,
Pectora{que} infesta tondat aperta manu. &c.
Net minus est confusa Venus. &c,*
Quàm iuuenis rupit cum ferus inguen aper,
WHat ayles poore Venus nowe to sit alone
In funerall attyre, her woonted hew
Nuite chang’d, her smile to teares, her myrth to mean:
As though Adonis woundes nowe bled anew,
Or she wish young Iulus late return’d
From seeing her Aeneas carkas burn’d.
Alack for woe, what ayles her little Boy,
To haue his tender cheekes besprent with teares,
And sit and sighe, where he was wonte to toy?
How happes, no longer he his quiuer weares,
But breakes his Boe, throwing the shiuers by,
And pluckes his winges, and lettes his fyrebrand dye?
No, Dame and Darling too, yee come to late,
To winne me now, as you haue done tofore;
I liue secure, and quiet in estate,
Fully resolu’d from louing any more:
Goe pack for shame from hence to Cyprus Ile,
And there goe play your prankes an other while.

Page  [unnumbered]


The Authour in this passion alludeth to the fable of Phineus, which is sette downe at large in the Argonauticks of Apollo∣nius, and Valerius Flaccus. He compareth him selfe vnto Phi∣neus; his Mistres vnto the Harpyes; and his thoughtes vnto Zethes, and his desires vnto Calais, the two twinnes of Boreas;and the voyce of Ne plus vltra spoaken from Heauen to Calais and Zethes, vnto the Diuine grace, which willed him to follow no further the miseries of a Louers estate, but to pro∣fesse vnfainedlie, that his Loue is past. And, last of all, the Author concludeth against the sower sawce of Loue with the French prouerbe: Pour vn plaisir mille douleurs.

THe Harpye birdes, that did in such despight
Greiue and anny old Phinëus so sore,
Were chas’d away by Calais in fight
And by his brother Zeth for euermore;
Who follow’d them, vntill they hard on hye
A voyce, that said, Ye Twinnes No further fly.
Phineus I am, that so tormented was;
My Laura here I may an Harpye name;
My thoughtes and lustes bee Sonnes to Borëas,
Which neuer cea’st in following my Dame,
Till heau’nly Grace said vnto me at last,
Leaue fond Delightes, and say thy loue is past.
My loue is past I say, and sing full glad;
My time, alas, mispent in Loue I rewe,
Wherein few ioyes, or none at all I had,
But stoare of woes: I found the prouer be true,
For eu’ry pleasure that in Loue is found,
A thousand woes and more therein abound.

Page  [unnumbered]


The Author is this passion, telling what Loue is, easeth his heart, as it were, by rayling out right, where he can worke no other manner of reuenge. The inuention hereof, for the most part of the particulars conteyned, is taken out of cer∣teine Latine verses, which this Authour composed vpon Quid Amor.Which because they may well importe a passi∣on on of the writer, and aptly befitte the present title of his o∣uerpased Loue, he setteth them downe in this next page fol∣lowing, but not as accomptable for one of the hundreth passions of this booke.

HArke wanton youthes, whome Beawtie maketh blinde,
And learne of me, what kinde a thing is Loue;
Loue is a Brainesicke Boy, and fierce by kinde;
A Willfull Thought, which Reason can not moue;
A Flattring Sycophant; a Murd’ring Thiefe;
A Poysned choaking Bayte; a Tysing Griefe;
A Tyrant in his Lawes; in speach vntrue;
A Blindfold Guide; a Feather in the winde;
A right*Chameleon for change of hewe;
A Lamelimme Lust; a Tempest of the minde;
A Breach of Chastitie; all vertues Foe;
A Priuate warre; a Toilsome webbe of woe;
A Fearefull Iealosie; a Vaine Desire;
A Labyrinth; a Pleasing Miserie;
A Shipwracke of mans life; a Smoaklesse fire;
A Sea of teares; a lasting Lunacie;
A Heauie seruitude; a Dropsie Thurst;
A Hellish Gaile, whose captiues are accurst.

Page  [unnumbered]

Quid Amor?

QVid sitamor, qualisque, cupis me scire magistro?
Est Venens proles; caelo metuendus, et Orco;
Et leuior ventis; et fulminis ocyor alis;
Peruigil excubitor; fallax comes; inuidus hospes;
Armatus puer; insanus iuuenis; nouitatis
Quesitor; belli fautor; virtuti inimicus;
Splendidus ore; nocens promisso; lege tyrannus;
Dux caecus; gurges viciorum; noctis alumnus;
Fur clandestinus; mors viuida; mortua vita;
Dulcis inexpertis; expertis durus▪ Eremus
Stultitiae; acula ignescens; vesana libido;
Zelotypum frigus; mala mens; corrupta voluntas;
Pluma leuis; morbus iecoris; dementia prudens;
Infamis leno; Bacchi, Cererisque minister;
Prodiga liberas animae; pruritus inanis;
Prauorum crcer; corrupti sanguinis ardor;
Irrationalis motus; sycophanta bilinguis;
Struma pudicitiae; fumi expets flamma; patronus
Periurae linguae; prostrato saeuus; amicus
Immeritis; ani•• tempestas; luxuriosus
Praeceptor; sine sine malum; sine pace duellum;
Naufragium humanae vitae; laethale venenum;
Flebile cordollum; graue calcar; acuta sagitta;
Sontica pernicies, nodosae causa podâgrae,
Natus ad insidias vulpes; pontus lachrymarum;
Virgineae Zonae ruptura; dolosa voluptas;
Multicolor serpens; vrens affectus; inermis
Bellator; senijque caput, seniumque iuuentae?
Ante diem funus; portantis vipera; maestus
Pollinctor; syren fallax; mors praeuia morti;
Infector nemorum; erroris Labyrinthus; amara
Dulcedo; inuentor falsi; via perditionis;
Formarum egregius spectator; paena perennis;
Suspirans ventus; singultu plena querela;
Triste magisterium; multae iactura diei;
Martyrium innocui; temerarius aduena; pondus
Sisyphium; radix curarum; desidis esca;
Febris anbela; sitis morosa; bidropicus ardor;
Vis vno dicam verbo? incarnata Gehenna est.

Page  [unnumbered]


This passion is an imitation of the first Sonnet in Seraphine, & grownded vpon that which Aristotle writeth* of the Aegle, for the proofe she maketh of her birdes, by setting them to behold the Sonne. After whom Pliny hath written, as fo∣loweth:

Aquila implumes etiamnum pullos suos percutiens, Subinde cogit aduer∣sos intueri Solis radios: et si conniuentem humectantem{que} animaduer∣tit,*praecipitat e nido, velut adulerinum at{que} degenerem: illum, cuiu acies firma contra steterit, eucat.

THe haughtie Aegle Birde, of Birdes the best,
Before the eathers, of her younglinges growe,
She liftes them one by one from out theire nest,
To vewe the Sunne, thereby her owne to knowe;
Those that behold it not with open eye,
She lettes them fall, not able yet to flye.
Such was my case, when Loue possest my mind;
Each thought of mine, which could not bide the light
Of her my Sunne, whose beames had made me blinde,
I made my Will suppresse it with Despight:
But such a thought, as could abide her best,
I harbred still within my carefull brest.
But those fond dayes are past, and halfe forgotte;
I practise now the quite cleane contrary:
What thoughtes can like of her, I like them not,
But choake them streight, for feare of ieopardy;
For though that Loue to some do seeme a Toy,
I knowe by proofe, that Loue is long annoy.

Page  [unnumbered]


The Authour faineth here, that Loue, essaying with his brand, to fire the heart of some such Lady, on whome it would not worke, immediately, to trie whether the old vertue of it were extinguished or no, applied it vnto his owne brest, and ther∣by foolishlie consumed him selfe. His inuention hath some relation vnto the Epitaph of Loue, written by M. Girolimo Parabosco;

In cenere giace qui sepolto Amore,
Colpa di quella, che morir mi face, &c.
REsolu’d to dust intomb’d heere lieth Loue,
Through faulte of her, who heere her selfe should lye;
He strooke her irest, but all in vaine did proue
To fire the yse: and doubting by and by
His brand 〈◊〉 lost his force, he gan to trye
Upon him selfe; which tryall made him dye.
In sooth no force; let those lament that lust,
Ile sing a carroll song for obsequy;
For, towardes me his dealings were vniust,
And cause of all my passed misery:
The Fates, I thinke, seeing what I had past,
In my beha•• wrought this reuenge at last.
But somewhat more to pacyfie my minde,
By illing him, through whome I liu’d a slaue,
Ile cast his ashes to the open winde,
Or write this Epitaph vppon his graue;
Here lyeth Loue, of Mars the bastard Sonne,
VVhose foolish fault to death him selfe hath donne.

Page  [unnumbered]

This is an Epilogue to the whole worke, and more like a prai∣er then a Passion: and is faithfully translated out of Petrarch, Sonnet. 314. 2. parte, where he beginneth,

I vò piangendo i miei passati tempi,
I quai posi in amar cosa mortale,
Senza leuarmi à volo, hauenà’ io l’ale,
Per dar forse dme non bassi essempi. &c.
LVgeo iam querulus vitae tot lustra peracta,
Quae malè consumpsi, mortalia vana secutus,
Cùm tamen alatus potui volitasse per altum,
Exemplar{que} fuisse alijs, nec inutile forsan.
T•• mea qui peccata vides, culpas{que} nefandas,
Coeli summe parens, magnum, & venerabile numen,
Collapsae succurre anima; mentis{que} caduca
Candida defectum tua gratia suppleat omnem.
Vt, qui sustinui bellum, duras{que} procellas,
In pace, & portu moriar; minime{que} probanda
Si mea vita fuit, tamen vt claudatur honestè.
Tautello vitae spacio, quod fortè supersit,
Funeribus{que} meis praesentem porrige dextram;
Ipse vides, inte quàm spes mea tota reposta est.
The Labour is light, where Loue is the Paiemistres.



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