Half way the hill, near to those aged trees,
Whose insides are as hives for lab'ring bees,
(As who should say, before their roots were dead,
For good work's sake and alms they harboured
Those whom nought else did cover but the skies:)
A path, untrodden but of beasts, there lies,
Directing to a cave in yonder glade,
Where all this forest's citizens for shade
At noon-time come, and are the first, I think,
That (running through that cave) my waters drink:
Within this rock there sits a woful wight,
As void of comfort as that cave of light;

Come , lovely boy unto my court,
And leave these uncouth woods, and all,
That feed thy fancy with love's gall,
But keep away the honey and the sport. Chorus of Graces:

Come unto me,
And with variety
Thou shalt be fed; which Nature loves, and I.

There is no music in a voice
That is but one, and still the same.
Inconstancy is but a name
To fright poor lovers from a better choice. Chorus:

Shall I because my Love is gone,
Accuse those golden darts
Which to a blessed union
Struck our two loving hearts,
Since Fortune, and not Love hath caused my moan?

No, her pure image I shall prize,
Imprinted in my breast,
More than the fairest Mistress eyes
That ever swain possest,
Which in eternal bonds my fancy ties.

Come then your sharpest griefs, and try
If you can pierce my heart,
But use, if you would have me die,
The best you can of Art,
To wound a breast so arm'd with constancy.

Farewell this company,
If you love sadness,
For melancholy is
Nothing but madness;
Hang up proud costly clothes,
Pedlars and pack-toys;
Let's make the hogs-heads weep,
Claret and sack, boys.

If black doom by desert should go,
Then, Lord; my due desert is death;
Which robs from souls immortal joy,
And from their bodies mortal breath.

But in so great a Saviour,
Can e'er so base a worm's annoy
Add any glory to thy power,
Or any gladdness to thy joy?

Thou justly mayst me doom to death,
And everlasting flames of fire;
But on a wretch to pour thy wrath
Can ever sure be worth thine ire.

Since Jesus the atonement was,
Let tender mercy me release;
Let him be umpire of my cause,

Adieu , fond love; farewell, you wanton powers,
I am free again;
Thou dull disease of blood, and idle hours,
Bewitching pain,
Fly to the fools that sigh away their time.
My nobler love to heaven doth climb,
And there behold beauty still young
That time can ne'er corrupt nor death destroy;
Immortal sweetness by fair angels sung,
And honoured by eternity and joy.
There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire;
Fond love declines, this heavenly grows higher.

Sonet 1.

Much sorrowe in it selfe my loue doth move
More my dispayre to loue a hopelesse blisse
My follie most to loue where sure to misse
O helpe me but this last griefe to remoue.

All payne if yow command it, ioy doth proue
And wisdome to seeke ioy; then say but this
Because my pleasure in thy torment is
I doe command thee withoute hope to loue.

So when this thought my sorrowes shall augment
That myne owne follie did procure my payne
Then shall I say to giue my selfe content

Sonet 1.

Now now I loue indeed and suffer more
In one day now then I did in a yeare
Great flames they be which but small sparkles were
And wounded now I was but prickt before.

No mervayle then though more then heertofore
I weepe and sigh; how can great wounds be there
Where moysture runs not oute and euer where
The fire is great of smoke there must be store.

My heart was hetherto but like green wood
Which must be dry'd before it will burne bright
My former loue seru'd but my heart to drye

Sonet 5.

A friend of myne moaning my helplesse loue
Hoping by killing hope my loue to slay
Let not (quoth he) thy hope thy heart betray
Impossible it is her heart to move.

But sith resolued loue cannot remove
As longe as thy devine perfections stay
Thy godhead then he sought to take away
Deare seeke revenge and him a lyer proue.

Gods only doe impossibilityes
Impossible sayth he thy grace to gayne
Shew then the power of thy devinityes
By graunting me thy favoure to obtayne

Sonet 1.

My Ladies presence makes the roses red
Because to see her lips they blush for shame
The lilies leaues for envy pale became
And her white hands in them this envy bred

The marygold abroad the leaues did spread
Because the suns and her power is the same
The violet of purple coloure came
Dy'd with the bloud she made my heart to shed.

In briefe all flowers from her theyre vertue take
From her sweet breath theyre sweet smells doe proceed
The liuing heate which her eybeames doe make