Some beauty peept, through lettice of fear'd age.
Oft did she heave her Napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters:
Laundring the silken figures in the brine,
That seasoned woe had pelleted in teares,
And often reading what contents it beares:
As often shriking undistingusht woe,
In clamours of all size both high and low,
Sometimes her leveld eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battry to these spheares intend:
Sometime diverted their poore balls are tide,
To th'orbed earth; sometimes they doe extend,
Their view right on, anon their gazes lend,
To every place at once and no where fixt,
The minde and sight distractedly commixt.
Her haire nor loose nor ti'd in formall plat,
Proclaim'd in her a carelesse hand of pride;
For some untuck'd descended her shev'd hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheecke beside,
Some in her threeden fillet still did bide,
And true to bondage would not breake from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.
A thousand favours from a maund she drew,
Of amber, christall, and of bedded Iet,
Which one by one she in a river threw,
Vpon whose weeping margent she was set,
Like usury applying wet to wet,
Or Monarches hands that lets not bounty fall,
Where want cries some; but where excesse begs all.
Of folded schedulls had she many a one,
Which she perus'd, sigh'd, tore and gave the flud,
Crackt many a ring of Posied gold and bone,

Bidding them finde their Sepulchers in mud,
Found yet moe letters sadly pen'd in blood,
With sleided silke, feate and affectedly
Enswath'd and seal'd to curious secrecie.
These often bath'd she in her fluxive eyes,
And often kis'd, and often gave to teare,
Cried, O false blood, thou register of lies,
What unapproved witnesse dost him beare!
Inke would have seem'd more blacke and damned here!
This said in top of rage the lines she rents,
Bigge discontent, so breaking their contents.
A reverend man that graz'd his cattell nie,
Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew,
Of Court, of Cittie, and had let goe by,
The swiftest houres observed as they flew,
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew:
And priviledg'd by age, and desires to know,
In briefe, the grounds and motives of her woe.
So slides he downe upon his grayned bat;
And comely distent sits he by her side,
When he againe desires her, being sat,
Her grievance with his hearing to devide:
If that from him there may be ought applied,
Which may her suffering extasie asswage,
Tis promis'd in the charitie of age.
Father she saies, though in me you behold
The enjurie of many a blasting houre;
Let it not tell your judgement I am old,
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power,
I might as yet have beene a spreading flower,
Fresh to my selfe, if I had selfe applied
Love to my selfe, and to no Love beside.

But woe is me, too earely I attended,
A youthfull suit it was to gaine my grace;
O one by natures outwards so commended,
That maidens eyes stucke over all his face,
Love lackt a dwelling, and made him her place,
And when in his faire parts she did abide,
She was new lodg'd and newly Deified.
His browny lockes did hang in crooked curles.
And every light occasion of the winde
Vpon his lippes their silken parcels hurles,
Whats sweet to doe, to doe will aptly finde,
Each eye that saw him did inchant the minde:
For on his visage was in little drawne,
What largenesse thinkes in Paradise was sawne.
Small shew of man was yet upon his chinne,
His Phœnix downe began but to appeare
Like unshorne velvet, on that termelesse skinne,
Whose bare out-brag'd the web it seem'd to weare.
Yet shewed his visage by that cost more deare,
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.
His qualities were beautious as his forme,
For maiden tongu'd he was and thereof free;
Yet if men mov'd him, was he such a storme,
As of twixt May and Aprill is to see,
When windes breath sweet, unruly though they be.
His rudenesse so with his authoriz'd youth,
Did livery falsenesse in a pride of truth.
Well could he ride, and often men would say
That horse his mettall from his rider takes;
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes
And controversie hence a question takes,

Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his mannag'd, by'th well-doing Steede.
But quickly on this side the verdict went,
His reall habitude gave life and grace
To appertanings and to ornament,
Accomplisht in himselfe not in his case:
All aids themselves made fairer by their place,
Can for additions, yet their purpos'd trimme
Peec'd not his grace but were all grac'd by him.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinde of arguments and questions deepe,
All replication prompt, and reason strong
For his advantage still did weke and sleepe,
To make the weeper laugh, the laughter weepe:
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will,
That he did in the generall bosome raigne
Of young, of old, and sexes both inchanred,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remaine
In personall duty, following where he haunted,
Consent's bewitcht, ere he desire have granted,
And dialogu'd for him what he would say,
Askt their owne wills and made their wills obey.
Many there were that did his picture get
To serve their eyes and in it put their minde,
Like fooles that in th'imagination set
The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd,
And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them,
Then the true gouty Land-lord which doth owe them.
So many have that never toucht his hand
Sweetly suppos'd them mistresse of his heart:

My wofull selfe that did in freedome stand,
And was my owne fee simple not (in part)
What with his art in youth and youth in art
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserv'd the stalke and gave him all my flower.
Yet did I not as some my equalls did
Demand of him, nor being desired yeelded,
Finding my selfe in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I my honour sheelded,
Experience for me many bulwarkes builded
Of proofes new bleeding which remain'd the foile
Of this false Iewell, and his amorous spoile.
But ah who ever shune'd by precedent,
The destin'd ill she must her selfe assay,
Or forc'd examples gainst her owne content,
To put the by-past perills in her way?
Counsaile may stop a while what will not stay:
For when we rage, advice is often seene
By blunting us to make our wits more keene.
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
That wee must curbe it upon others proofe,
To be forbid the sweets that seemes so good,
For feare of harmes that preach in our behoofe;
O appetite from judgement stand aloofe!
The one a pallat hath that needs will taste,
Though reason weepe and cry it is thy last.
For further I could say this mans untrue,
And knew the patternes of his foule beguiling,
Heard where his plants in others Orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling,
Knew vowes, were ever brokers to defiling,
Thought Characters and words meerely but art,

And bastards of his foule adulterate heart.
And long upon these termes I held my Citty,
Till thus he gan besiege me: Gentle maide,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pitty,
And be not of my holy vowes afraid,
Thats to yee sworne to none was ever said,
For feasts of love I have beene call'd unto
Till now, did nere invite nor never vow,
All my offences that abroad you see
Are errors of the blood none of the minde:
Love made them not, with acture they may be,
VVhere neither party is nor true nor kinde,
They sought their shame that so their shame did finde;
And so much lesse of shame in me remaines,
By how much of me their reproach containes.
Among the many that mine eyes have seene,
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put toth' smallest teene,
Or any of my leasures ever Charmed,
Harme have I done to them but nere was harm'd:
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine owne was free,
And raign'd commanding in his Monarchy.
Looke here what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
Of palid pearles, and rubies red as blood:
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of griefe and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodlesse white, and the encrimson'd mood,
Effects of terror and deare modesty,
Encampt in hearts but fighting outwardly.
And loe behold these talents of their haire,
VVith twisted mettle amorously empleach'd,
I have receiv'd from many a severall faire,

Their kinde acceptance, weepingly beseech'd,
With th'annexions of faire gems inrich'd,
And deepe brain'd sonnets that did amplifie,
Eeach stones deare Nature, worth and quality.
The Diamond? why, 'twas beautifull and hard,
Whereto his invis'd properties did tend,
The deepe greene Emrald, in whose fresh regard,
Weake sights their sickly radience doe amend.
The heaven hew'd Saphyr and the Opall blend,
With objects manifold; each severall stone,
With wit well blazon'd, smil'd, or made some moan.
Loe all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensiv'd and subdu'd desires the tender,
Nature hath charg'd me that I hoor'd them not,
But yeeld them up where I my selfe must render:
That is to you my origin and ender:
For these of force must your oblations be,
Since I their Altar, you enpatrone me.
Oh then advance (of yours) that phraselesse hand,
Whose white weighes downe the airy scale of praise,
Take all these similies to your owne command,
Hollowed with sighes that burning lungs did raise:
What me your minister? for you obayes,
Workes under you, and to your audit comes,
Their distract parcells, incombined summes.
Loe this device was sent me from a Nun,
Or Sister sanctified of holiest note,
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossomes dote,
For she was sought by spirits of richest cote,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternall love.

But oh my sweet what labour ist to leave,
The thing we have not, mastring what not strives,
Playing the Place which did no forme receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrain'd gives,
She that her fame so to her selfe contrives,
The scarres of battell scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.
Oh pardon me in that my boast is true,
The accident which brought me to her eye,
Vpon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister flie:
Religious love put out Religions eye:
Not to be tempted would she be inur'd,
And now to tempt all libertie procur'd.
How mighty then you are, Oh heare me tell,
The broken bosomes that to me belong,
Have emptied all their fountaines in my well:
And mine I powre your Ocean all among:
I strong o're them, and you o're me being strong,
Must for your victorie us all congest,
As compound love to physicke your cold brest.
My parts had power to charme a sacred Sunne,
Who disciplin'd I dieted in grace,
Beleev'd her eyes, when they t'assaile begun,
All vowes and consecrations giving place:
O most potentiall love, vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.
When thou impressest, what are precepts worth,
Of stale example? when thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those impediments stand forth,
Of wealth, of filiall feare, law, kindred, fame,

Loves armes are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sence, 'gainst shame,
And sweetens in the suffring pang it beares,
The Alloes of all forces, shockes and feares.
Now all these hearts that doe on mine depend,
Feeling it breake, with bleeding groanes they pine,
And supplicant their sighes to you extend,
To leave the batterie that you make 'gainst mine,
Lending soft audience, to my sweet designe,
And credent soule, to that strong bonded oath,
That shall preferre and undertake my troth.
This said, his waterie eyes he did dismount,
Whose sightes till then were leavel'd on my face,
Each cheeke a river running from a fount,
With brinish currant downe-ward flowed apace:
Oh how the channell to the streame gave grace!
Who glaz'd with Christall gate the glowing Roses,
That flame through water which their hew incloses.
Oh father, what a hell of witch-craft lies,
In the small orbe of one perticular teare?
But with the inundation of the eyes:
What rocky heart to water will not weare?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here,
Or cleft effect, cold modesty, hot wrath:
Both fire from hence, and chill extincture hath!
For loe his passion but an art of craft,
Even there resolv'd my reason into teares,
There my white stole of chastite I daft,
Shooke of my sober guards, and civill feares,
Appeare to him, as he to me appeares:
All melting, though our droppes this difference bore,
His poison'd me, and mine did him restore,
In him a plenitude of subtill matter,

Applied to Cautles, all strange formes receives,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or sounding palenesse, and he takes and leaves,
In eithers aptnesse as it best deceives:
To blush at speeches ranke, to weepe at woes,
Or to turne white and sound at tragicke showes.
That not a heart which in his levell came,
Could scape the haile of his all hurting aime,
Shewing faire Nature is both kinde and tame:
And vail'd in them did winne whom he would maime,
Against the thing he sought he would exclaime,
When he most burnt in heart-wish'd luxurie,
He preach'd pure maide, and prais'd cold chastitie.
Thus meerely with the garment of a grace,
The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd,
That th' unexperient gave the tempter place,
Which like a Cherubin above them hover'd,
Who young and simple would not be so lover'd.
Aye me I fell, and yet doe question make,
What I should doe againe for such a sake.
Oh that infected moysture of his eye,
O that false fire which in his cheeke so glow'd:
Oh that forc'd thunder from his heart did flye,
O that sad breath his spungie lungs bestowed,
O all that borrowed motion seeming owed,
Would yet againe betray the fore-betrai'd,
And new pervert a reconciled Maide.

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