| Front Matter |
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I. |
Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show |
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II. |
Not at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot |
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III. |
Let dainty wits cry on the Sisters nine |
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IV. |
Virtue! alas, now let me take some rest |
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V. |
It is most true—that eyes are formed to serve |
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VI. |
Some lovers speak, when they their Muses entertain |
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VII. |
When Nature made her chief work—Stella’s eyes |
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VIII. |
Love born in Greece, of late fled from his native place |
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IX. |
Queen Virtue’s Court—which some call Stella’s face |
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X. |
Reason! in faith, thou art well served! that still |
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XI. |
In Truth, O Love! with what a boyish kind |
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XII. |
Cupid! because thou shin’st in Stella’s eyes |
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XIII. |
Phoebus was judge between Jove, Mars and Love |
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XIV. |
Alas! have I not pain enough? my friend! |
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XV. |
You that do search for every purling spring |
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XVI. |
In nature apt to like, when I did see |
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XVII. |
His mother dear, Cupid offended late |
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XVIII. |
With what sharp checks I in myself am shent |
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XIX. |
In Cupid’s bow, how are my heart-strings bent! |
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XX. |
Fly! fly! my friends; I have my death wound, fly! |
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XXI. |
Our words, my friend! (right healthful caustics!) blame |
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XXII. |
In highest way of heaven, the sun did ride |
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XXIII. |
The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness |
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XXIV. |
Rich fools there be, whose base and filthy heart |
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XXV. |
The wisest scholar of the wight most wise |
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XXVI. |
Though dusty wits dare scorn astrology |
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XXVII. |
Because I oft in dark abstracted guise |
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XXVIII. |
You that with allegory’s curious frame |
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XXIX. |
Like some weak lords—neighboured by mighty kings |
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XXX. |
Whether the Turkish new moon minded be |
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XXXI. |
With how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb’st the skies! |
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XXXII. |
Morpheus! the lively son of deadly Sleep |
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XXXIII. |
I Might—unhappy word, O me!—I might |
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XXXIV. |
Come, let me write. “And to what end?” To ease |
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XXXV. |
What may words say, or what may words not say |
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XXXVI. |
Stella! whence doth this new assault arise? |
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XXXVII. |
My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell |
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XXXVIII. |
This night, while sleep begins with heavy wings |
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XXXIX. |
Come Sleep! O Sleep! the certain knot of peace! |
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XL. |
As good to write, as for to lie and groan |
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XLI. |
Having this day, my horse, my hand, my lance |
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XLII. |
O Eyes! which do the spheres of beauty move |
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XLIII. |
Fair eyes! sweet lips! dear heart! that foolish I |
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XLIV. |
My words, I know, do well set forth my mind |
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XLV. |
Stella oft sees the very face of woe |
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XLVI. |
I curst thee oft, I pity now thy case |
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XLVII. |
What! have I thus betrayed my liberty? |
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XLVIII. |
Soul’s joy! bend not those morning stars from me! |
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XLIX. |
I, on my horse; and Love on me, doth try |
|
L. |
Stella! the fulness of my thoughts of thee |
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LI. |
Pardon mine ears! both I and they do pray |
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LII. |
A strife is grown between Virtue and Love |
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LIII. |
In martial sports I had my cunning tried |
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LIV. |
Because I breathe not love to every one |
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LV. |
Muses! I oft invoked your holy aid |
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LVI. |
Fie! school of Patience, fie! your lesson is |
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LVII. |
Woe, having made with many fights his own |
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LVIII. |
Doubt there hath been—when, with his golden chain |
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LIX. |
Dear! why make you more of a dog, than me? |
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LX. |
When my good angel guides me to the place |
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LXI. |
Oft with true sighs, oft with uncallèd tears |
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LXII. |
Late tired with woe, even ready for to pine |
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LXIII. |
O grammar rules! O now your virtues show! |
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LXIV. |
No more! my Dear! no more these counsels try! |
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LXV. |
Love! by sure proof I may call thee unkind |
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LXVI. |
And do I see some cause a hope to feed? |
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LXVII. |
Hope! art thou true, or dost thou flatter me? |
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LXVIII. |
Stella! the only planet of my light! |
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LXIX. |
O joy! too high for my low style to show |
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LXX. |
My Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy |
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LXXI. |
Who will in fairest book of Nature know |
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LXXII. |
Desire! though thou my old companion art |
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LXXIII. |
Love still a boy, and oft a wanton is |
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LXXIV. |
I never drank of Aganippe’s well |
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LXXV. |
Of all the Kings that ever here did reign |
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LXXVI. |
She comes! and straight therewith her shining twins do move |
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LXXVII. |
Those looks! whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight |
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LXXVIII. |
O how the pleasant airs of true love be |
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LXXIX. |
Sweet kiss! thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite |
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LXXX. |
Sweet swelling lip! well mayest thou swell in pride |
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LXXXI. |
O kiss! which dost those ruddy gems impart |
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LXXXII. |
Nymph of the garden! where all beauties be |
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LXXXIII. |
Good brother Philip! I have born you long |
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LXXXIV. |
Highway! since you my chief Parnassus be |
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LXXXV. |
I see the house! My heart! thyself contain! |
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LXXXVI. |
Alas! whence came this change of looks? If I |
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LXXXVII. |
When I was forced from Stella ever dear |
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LXXXVIII. |
Out! traitor Absence! Darest thou counsel me |
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LXXXIX. |
Now that of absence the most irksome night |
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XC. |
Stella! think not that I by verse seek fame |
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XCI. |
Stella! while now, by honour’s cruel might |
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XCII. |
Be your words made, good Sir! of Indian ware |
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XCIII. |
O fate! O fault! O curse! child of my bliss! |
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XCIV. |
Grief! find the words! For thou hast made my brain |
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XCV. |
Yet Sighs! dear Sighs! indeed true friends you are |
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XCVI. |
Thought! with good cause thou likest so well the night! |
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XCVII. |
Dian, that fain would cheer her friend the Night |
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XCVIII. |
Ah, bed! the field where joy’s peace some do see |
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XCIX. |
When far-spent night persuades each mortal eye |
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C. |
O Tears! no tears but rain from beauty’s skies |
|
CI. |
Stella is sick, and in that sick bed lies |
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CII. |
Where be those roses gone, which sweetened so our eyes? |
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CIII. |
O happy Thames! that didst my Stella bare |
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CIV. |
Envious wits! what hath been mine offence |
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CV. |
Unhappy sight! And hath she vanished by? |
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CVI. |
O absent presence! Stella is not here! |
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CVII. |
Stella! since thou so right a Princess art |
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CVIII. |
When Sorrow, using mine own fire’s might |
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| Other Songs of Variable Verse |
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First: Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth |
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Second: Have I caught my heavenly jewel |
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Third: If Orpheus’ voice had force to breathe such music’s love |
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Fourth: Only joy! now here you are |
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Fifth: While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought |
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Sixth: O you that hear this voice! |
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Seventh: Whose senses in so evil consort their stepdame Nature lays |
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Eighth: In a grove most rich of shade |
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Ninth: Go my flock! go get you hence! |
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Tenth: O dear life! when shall it be |
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Eleventh: Who is it that this dark night |
