Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

To whom, I made answer, "That it was so. That, in deed, they had in England, put down all the religious houses of friars and monks that were in England; and the images that were in their churches and other places were taken away, and used there no more. For that, as they say, the making of them, and the putting of them where they were adored, was clean contrary to the express commandment of Almighty GOD, _Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image &c._: and that, for that cause, they thought it not lawful that they should stand in the church, which is, the House of Adoration."

One that was at the declaring of these words, who was my master, GONZALO SEREZO, answered and said, "If it were against the commandment of GOD, to have images in the churches; that then he had spent a great deal of money in vain; for that, two years past [_i.e., in 1555_] he had made in the Monastery of Santo Domingo in the said city of Mexico, an image of Our Lady, of pure silver and gold, with pearls and precious stones, which cost him 7,000 and odd _pesos_" (and every _peso_ is 6s. 8d. of our money) [= _about_ £2,400, or _about_ £24,000 _now_]: which indeed was true, for I have seen it many times myself where it stands.

At the table was another gentleman, who, presuming to defend the cause more than any one that was there, said, "That they knew well enough, that they were made but of stocks and stones, and that to them was no worship given; but that there was a certain veneration due unto them after they were set up in church: and that they were set there with a good intent. The one, for that they were Books for the Simple People, to make them understand the glory of the saints that were in heaven, and a shape of them; to put us in remembrance to call upon them to be our intercessors unto GOD for us: for that we are such miserable sinners that we are not worthy to appear before GOD; and that using devotion to saints in heaven, they may obtain at GOD's hands, the sooner, the thing that we demand of Him. As, for example," he said, "imagine that a subject hath offended his King upon the earth in any kind of respect; is it for the party to go boldly to the King in person, and to demand pardon for his offences? No," saith he, "the presumption were too great; and possibly he might be repulsed, and have a great rebuke for his labour. Better it is for such a person to seek some private man near the King in his Court, and to make him acquainted with this matter, and let him be a mediator to His Majesty for him and for the matter he had to do with him; and so might he the better come to his purpose, and obtain the thing which he doth demand. Even so," saith he, "it is with GOD and His saints in heaven. For we are wretched sinners; and not worthy to appear or present ourselves before the Majesty of GOD, to demand of Him the thing that we have need of: therefore thou hast need to be devout! and have devotion to the mother of God, and the saints in heaven, to be intercessors to GOD for thee! and so mayest thou the better obtain of GOD, the thing that thou dost demand!"

To this I answered, "Sir, as touching the comparison you made of the intercessors to the King, how necessary they were, I would but ask of you this question. Set the case, that this King you speak of, if he be so merciful as when he knoweth that one or any of his subjects hath offended him; he send for him to his own town, or to his own house or place, and say unto him, 'Come hither! I know that thou hast offended many laws! if thou dost know thereof, and dost repent thee of the same, with full intent to offend no more, I will forgive thee thy trespass, and remember it no more!'" Said I, "If this be done by the King's own person, what then hath this man need go and seek friendship at any of the King's private servants' hands; but go to the principal: seeing that he is readier to forgive thee, than thou art to demand forgiveness at his hands!"

"Even so is it, with our gracious GOD, who calleth and crieth out unto us throughout all the world, by the mouth of His prophets and apostles; and, by His own mouth, saith, 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are over laden, and I will refresh you!' besides a thousand other offers and proffers, which He doth make unto us in His Holy Scriptures. What then have we need of the saints' help that are in heaven, whereas the LORD Himself doth so freely offer Himself for us?"

At which sayings, many of the hearers were astonied, and said that, "By that reason, I would give to understand that the Invocation of Saints was to be disannulled, and by the laws of GOD not commanded."

I answered, "That they were not my words, but the words of GOD Himself. Look into the Scriptures yourself, and you shall so find it!"

The talk was perceived to be prejudicial to the Romish doctrine; and therefore it was commanded to be no more entreated of. And all remained unthought upon, had it not been for a villainous Portuguese that was in the company, who said, _Basta ser Ingles para saber todo esto y mas_, who, the next day, without imparting anything to anybody, went to the Bishop of MEXICO and his Provisor, and said, that "In a place where he had been the day before was an Englishman, who had said that _there was no need of Saints in the Church, nor of any Invocation of Saints_." Upon whose denomination [_denouncement_], I was apprehended for the same words here rehearsed, and none other thing; and thereupon was used as hereafter is written.

So, apprehended, I was carried to prison, where I lay a close prisoner seven months [_till July 1558_], without speaking to any creature, but to the gaoler that kept the said prison, when he brought me my meat and drink. In the meantime, was brought into the said prison, one AUGUSTINE BOACIO, an Italian of Genoa, also for matters of religion; who was taken at Zacatecas, eighty leagues to the north-westward of the city of Mexico.

At the end of the said seven months [_i.e., in July 1558_], we were both carried to the high Church of Mexico, to do an open penance upon a high scaffold made before the high altar, upon a Sunday, in the presence of a very great number of people; who were, at least, 5,000 or 6,000. For there were some that came one hundred miles off to see the said _auto_, as they call it; for that there was never any before, that had done the like in the said country: nor could tell what Lutherans were, nor what it meant; for they never heard of any such thing before.

We were brought into the Church, every one with a _san benito_ upon his back; which is, half a yard of yellow cloth, with a hole to put in a man's head in the midst, and cast over a man's head: both flaps hang, one before, and another behind; and in the midst of every flap a Saint Andrew's cross, made of red cloth, and sewed in upon the same. And that is called _San Benito_.

The common people, before they saw the penitents come into the Church, were given to understand that we were heretics, infidels, and people that did despise GOD and His works, and that we had been more like devils than men; and thought we had had the favour [_appearance_] of some monsters or heathen people: and when they saw us come into the Church in our players' coats, the women and children began to cry out and made such a noise, that it was strange to hear and see; saying, that "They never saw goodlier men in all their lives; and that it was not possible that there could be in us so much evil as was reported of us; and that we were more like angels among men, than such persons of such evil religion as by the priests and friars, we were reported to be; and that it was a great pity that we should be so used for so small an offence."

So that we were brought into the said high Church, and set upon the scaffold which was made before the high altar, in the presence of all the people, until _High Mass_ was done; and the Sermon made by a friar concerning our matter: putting us in all the disgrace they could, to cause the people not to take so much compassion upon us, for that "we were heretics, and people seduced of the Devil, and had forsaken the faith of the Catholic Church of Rome"; with divers other reproachful words, which were too long to recite in this place.

_High Mass_ and Sermon being done; our offences (as they called them) were recited, each man what he had said and done: and presently was the sentence pronounced against us, that was that--

The said AUGUSTINE BOACIO was condemned to wear his _San Benito_
all the days of his life, and put into perpetual prison, where he
should fulfil the same; and all his goods confiscated and lost.

And I, the said TOMSON, to wear the _San Benito_ for three years;
and then to be set at liberty.

And for the accomplishing of this sentence or condemnation, we must
be presently sent down from Mexico to Vera Cruz, and from thence to
San Juan de Ulua, which was sixty-five leagues by land; and there
to be shipped for Spain, with straight commandment that, upon pain
of 1,000 ducats, every one of the Masters should look straightly
unto us, and carry us to Spain, and deliver us unto the Inquisitors
of the Holy House of Seville; that they should put us in the
places, where we should fulfil our penances that the Archbishop of
MEXICO had enjoined unto us, by his sentence there given.

For the performance of the which, we were sent down from Mexico to the seaside, with fetters upon our feet; and there delivered to the Masters of the ships to be carried for Spain, as is before said.

And it was so, that the Italian fearing that if he presented himself in Spain before the Inquisitors, that they would have burnt him; to prevent that danger, when we were coming homeward, and were arrived at the island of Terceira, one of the isles of Azores, the first night that we came to an anchor in the said port [_i.e., of Angra_], about midnight, he found the means to get him naked out of the ship into the sea, and swam naked ashore; and so presently got him to the further side of the island, where he found a little caravel ready to depart for Portugal. In the which he came to Lisbon; and passed into France, and so into England; where he ended his life in the city of London.

And I, for my part, kept still aboard the ship, and came into Spain; and was delivered to the Inquisitors of the Holy House of Seville, where they kept me in close prison till I had fulfilled the three years of my penance, [_i.e., till about 1561_].

Which time being expired, I was freely put out of prison, and set at liberty.

Being in the city of Seville, a cashier of one HUGH TYPTON, an English merchant of great doing, by the space of one year [_i.e., till about 1562_]; it fortuned that there came out of the city of Mexico, a Spaniard, JUAN DE LA BARRERA, that had been long time in the Indies, and had got great sums of gold and silver. He, with one only daughter, shipped himself for to come to Spain; and, by the way, chanced to die, and gave all that he had unto his only daughter, whose name was MARIA DE LA BARRERA.

She having arrived at the city of Seville, it was my chance to marry with her. The marriage was worth to me £2,500 [= £25,000 _now_] in bars of gold and silver, besides jewels of great price. This I thought good to speak of, to show the goodness of GOD to all them that trust in Him; that I, being brought out of the Indies in such great misery and infamy to the world, should be provided at GOD's hand, in one moment, of more than in all my life before, I could attain unto by my own labour.

After we departed from Mexico, our _San Benitos_ were set up in the high Church of the said city, with our names written in the same, according to their use and custom; which is and will be a monument and a remembrance of us, as long as the Romish Church doth reign in that country. The same have been seen since, by one JOHN CHILTON; and divers others of our nation, which were left in that country, long since [_i.e., in October 1568_] by Sir JOHN HAWKINS.

_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals,_
_Canzonets, &c._

We purpose giving in the present Volume, all the printed Songs to which music was set by JOHN DOWLAND, the Lutenist; of whom, probably, BARNFIELD wrote the following lines, which first appeared in the surreptitious Collection _the Passionate Pilgrim_, in 1599; but which are usually included in SHAKESPEARE's _Works_:

If Music and sweet Poetry agree;
As they must needs, the sister and the brother:
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me!
Because thou lov'st the one; and I, the other.
DOWLAND to thee, is dear; whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense:
SPENSER, to me; whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That PHOEBUS's Lute, the Queen of Music, makes:
And I, in deep delight, am chiefly drowned
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as Poets feign:
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain!

The other poems set to music by DOWLAND, will be found at _pp_. 519-534, 609-622, 644-656.

JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music.

THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS.
1597.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
SIR GEORGE CAREY,

OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, KNIGHT,
BARON OF HUNSDON, CAPTAIN OF HER MAJESTY'S
Gentlemen Pensioners, Governor of the Isle of Wight,
Lieutenant of the County of Southampton, Lord
Chamberlain of Her Majesty's most royal
House; and of Her Highness's most
honourable Privy Council.

_That harmony, Right Honourable! which is skilfully expressed by instruments: albeit, by reason of the variety of number and proportion of itself, it easily stirs up the minds of the hearers to admiration and delight; yet for higher authority and power, hath been ever worthily attributed to that kind of music which to the sweetness of [the] instrument applies the lively voice of man, expressing some worthy sentence, or excellent poem. Hence, as all antiquity can witness, first grew the heavenly Art of Music: for LINUS, ORPHEUS, and the rest, according to the number and time of their Poems, first framed the numbers and times of Music. So that PLATO defines Melody to consist of Harmony, Number, and Words: Harmony, naked of itself; Words, the ornament of Harmony; Number, the common friend and writer of them both._

_This small book containing the consent of speaking harmony, joined with the most musical instrument, the Lute, being my first labour, I have presumed to dedicate to your Lordship: who, for your virtue and nobility, are best able to protect it; and for your honourable favours towards me, best deserving my duty and service. Besides, your noble inclination and love to all good arts, and namely_ [particularly] _the divine science of Music, doth challenge the Patronage of all Learning; than which no greater title can be added to Nobility_.

_Neither in these your honours, may I let pass the dutiful remembrance of your virtuous Lady, my honourable mistress, whose singular graces towards me have added spirit to my unfortunate labours._

_What time and diligence I have bestowed in the Search of Music, what travels in foreign countries, what success and estimation, even among strangers, I have found, I leave to the report of others. Yet all this in vain, were it not that your honourable hands have vouchsafed to uphold my poor fortunes: which I now wholly recommend to your gracious protection, with these my first endeavours, humbly beseeching you to accept and cherish the same with your continued favours._

_Your Lordship's most humble servant,_
_+JOHN DOWLAND.+_

To the Courteous Reader.

How hard an enterprise it is, in this skilful and curious Age, to commit our private labours to the public view, mine own disability and others' hard success do too well assure me: and were it not for that love [which] I bear to the true lovers of music, I had concealed these my first fruits; which how they will thrive with your taste I know not, howsoever the greater part of them might have been ripe enough by their age. The Courtly judgement, I hope will not be severe against them, being itself a party; and those sweet Springs of Humanity, I mean our two famous Universities, will entertain them for his sake whom they have already graced, and, as it were, enfranchised in the ingenuous profession of Music: which, from my childhood I have ever aimed at, sundry times leaving my native country, the better to attain so excellent a science.

About sixteen years past [_i.e., in 1580_], I travelled the chiefest parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of Music; but lately, being of a more confirmed judgement, I bent my course towards the famous provinces of Germany, where I found both excellent Masters, and most honourable patrons of music, namely, those two miracles of this Age for virtue and magnificence, HENRY JULIO, Duke of Brunswick, and the learned MAURICE, Landgrave of Hesse; of whose princely virtues and favours towards me, I can never speak sufficiently. Neither can I forget the kindness of ALEXANDRO HOROLOGIO, a right learned master of music, servant to the royal Prince, the Landgrave of Hesse, and GREGORIO HOWET, Lutenist to the magnificent Duke of Brunswick; both [of] whom I name, as well for their love to me as also for their excellency in their faculties.

Thus having spent some months in Germany, to my great admiration of that worthy country; I passed over the Alps into Italy, where I found the Cities furnished with all good arts, but especially music. What favour and estimation I had in Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, Florence, and divers other places, I willingly suppress; lest I should, [in] any way, seem partial in mine own endeavours. Yet I cannot dissemble the great content I found in the proffered amity of the most famous LUCA MARENZIO, whose sundry letters I received from Rome; and one of them, because it is but short, I have thought good to set down, not thinking it any disgrace to be proud of the judgement of so excellent a man.

_Molto magnifico Signior mio osservandissimo._

_Per una lettera del Signior ALBERIGO MALVEZI ho inteso quanto
con cortese affeto si mostri desideroso di essermi congionto_
_d'amicitia, dove infinitamente la ringratio di questo suo
buon'animo, offerendomegli all'incontro se in alcuna cosa la
posso servire, poi che gli meriti delle sue infinite virtù, e
qualità meritano che ogni uno e me l'ammirino e osservino, e per
fine di questo le bascio le mani. Di Roma, a' 13. di Luglio.
1595._

_D.V.S. Affettionatissimo servitore_,
+_LUCA MARENZIO_+.

Not to stand too long upon my travels: I will only name that worthy Master, GIOVANNI CROCHIO, Vice-master of the Chapel of Saint Mark's in Venice; with whom I had familiar conference.

And thus what experience I could gather abroad; I am now ready to practice at home, if I may but find encouragement in my first assays.

There have been divers Lute Lessons of mine lately printed without my knowledge, false and imperfect: but I purpose shortly myself to set forth the choicest of all my Lessons in print, and also an Introduction for Fingering; with other _Books of Songs_, whereof this is the first. And as this finds favour with you, so shall I be affected to labour in the rest. Farewell!

+JOHN DOWLAND.+

+THOMÆ CAMPIANI.+
_Epigramma._ De instituto authoris.

_Famam, posteritas quam dedit ORPHEO._
_Dolandi melius MUSICA dat sibi,_
_Fugaces reprimens archetypis sonos;_
_Quas et delitias præbuit auribus,_
_Ipsis conspicuas luminibus facit._

_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets, &c._

JOHN DOWLAND.
THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS

Unquiet thoughts! your civil slaughter stint!
And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart!
And you, my tongue! that makes my mouth a mint,
And stamps my thoughts, to coin them words by art,
Be still! For if you ever do the like,
I'll cut the string, that makes the hammer strike!

But what can stay my thoughts, they may not start?
Or put my tongue in durance for to die?
When as these eyes, the keys of mouth and heart
Open the lock, where all my love doth lie.
I'll seal them up within their lids for ever!
So thoughts and words and looks shall die together.

How shall I then gaze on my mistress' eyes?
My thoughts must have some vent, else heart will break.
My tongue would rust, as in my mouth it lies;
If eyes and thoughts were free, and that not speak.
Speak then! and tell the passions of Desire!
Which turns mine eyes to floods, my thoughts to fire.

* * * * *

Whoever thinks, or hopes of love for love?
Or who beloved, in CUPID's laws doth glory?
Who joys in vows, or vows not to remove:
Who, by this light god, hath not been made sorry?
Let him see me! eclipsed from my sun;
With dark clouds of an earth, quite overrun.

Who thinks that sorrows felt, desires hidden,
Or humble faith in constant honour armed,
Can keep love from the fruit that is forbidden?
Who thinks that change is by entreaty charmed?
Looking on me; let him know Love's delights
Are treasures hid in caves, but kept by sprites!

* * * * *

My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love.
Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night!
And say, "As she doth in the heavens move,
In earth so wanes and waxeth my delight."
And whisper this, but softly, in her ears!
"Hope oft doth hang the head, and Trust shed tears."

And you, my Thoughts, that some mistrust do carry!
If for mistrust, my mistress do you blame,
Say, "Though you alter, yet you do not vary
As she doth change; and yet remain the same:
Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect;
And love is sweetest, seasoned with suspect."

If she for this, with clouds do mask her eyes,
And make the heavens dark with her disdain;
With windy sighs disperse them in the skies!
Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain!
Thoughts, Hopes, and Love return to me no more,
Till CYNTHIA shine, as she hath done before!

* * * * *

If My complaints could passions move,
Or make LOVE see wherein I suffer wrong;
My passions were enough to prove
That my despairs had governed me too long.
O LOVE, I live and die in thee!
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me!

Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks,
Yet thou dost hope when I despair!
My heart for thy unkindness breaks!
Thou say'st, "Thou can'st my harms repair."
And when I hope: thou mak'st me hope in vain!
Yet for redress, thou let'st me still complain!

Can LOVE be rich, and yet I want?
Is LOVE my judge, and yet am I condemned?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant!
Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned!
That I do live, it is thy power!
That I desire, it is thy worth!

If love doth make men's lives too sour,
Let me not love, nor live henceforth!
Die shall my hopes, but not my faith,
That you, that of my fall may hearers be,
May hear Despair, which truly saith,
"I was more true to LOVE, than LOVE to me."

* * * * *

Can she excuse my wrongs with virtue's cloak?
Shall I call her good, when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires, which vanish into smoke?
Must I praise the leaves, where no fruit I find?

No! No! Where shadows do for bodies stand,
Thou may'st be abused, if thy sight be dim.
Cold love is like to words written on sand;
Or to bubbles, which on the water swim.

Wilt thou be abused still,
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou can'st not o'ercome her will,
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever!

Was I so base, that I might not aspire,
Unto those high joys, which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire,
If she this deny, what can granted be?

If she will yield to that which reason is,
It is Reason's will, that Love should be just.
Dear! make me happy still, by granting this,
Or cut off delays, if that die I must!

Better a thousand times to die,
Than for to live thus still tormented:
Dear! but remember it was I,
Who, for thy sake, did die contented.

* * * * *

Now, O now, I needs must part,
Parting, though I absent mourn;
Absence can no joy impart,
Joy once fled, cannot return.
While I live, I needs must love,
Love lives not, when hope is gone.
Now at last despair doth prove
Love divided, loveth none.
Sad despair doth drive me hence,
This despair, unkindness sends;
If that parting be offence,
It is she which then offends.

Dear! when I from thee am gone,
Gone are all my joys at once.
I loved thee, and thee alone!
In whose love I joyed once:
And although your sight I leave,
Sight wherein my joys do lie;
Till that death do sense bereave,
Never shall affection die!
Sad despair doth drive me hence, _&c._

Dear! if I do not return,
Love and I shall die together.
For my absence never mourn!
Whom you might have joyed ever.
Part we must, though now I die,
Die I do, to part with you:
Him despair doth cause to lie
Who both lived and dieth true.
Sad despair doth drive me hence, _&c._

* * * * *

Dear, if you change! I'll never choose again.
Sweet, if you shrink! I'll never think of love.
Fair, if you fail! I'll judge all beauty vain.
Wise, if too weak! more wits I'll never prove.
Dear! sweet! fair! wise! change, shrink, nor be not weak;
And, on my faith! my faith shall never break.

Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn;
Heaven her bright stars, through earth's dim globe shall move.
Fire, heat shall lose; and frosts, of flames be born;
Air made to shine, as black as hell shall prove:
Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view,
Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you!

* * * * *

Burst forth my tears! Assist my forward grief!
And show what pain, imperious love provokes!
Kind tender lambs, lament love's scant relief,
And pine, since pensive care my freedom yokes.
O pine to see me pine, my tender flocks!

Sad pining Care, that never may have peace,
At Beauty's gate, in hope of pity knocks;
And Mercy sleeps while deep disdains increase;
And Beauty, hope in her fair bosom yokes,
O grieve to hear my grief, my tender flocks!

Like to the winds, my sighs have wingèd been,
Yet are my sighs and suits repaid with mocks;
I plead, yet she repineth at my teen.
O ruthless rigour! harder than the rocks!
That both the shepherd kills, and his poor flocks.

* * * * *

O Crystal tears! like to the morning showers.
And sweetly weep into thy lady's breast!
And as the dews revive the drooping flowers,
So let your drops of pity be addresst!
To quicken up the thoughts of my desert.
Which sleeps too sound; whilst I from her depart.

Haste hapless sighs! and let your burning breath
Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart!
Whose frozen rigour, like forgetful Death,
Feels never any touch of my desert.
Yet sighs and tears to her, I sacrifice:
Both, from a spotless heart, and patient eyes.

* * * * *

Think'st thou, then, by feigning
Sleep, with a grand disdaining;
Or, with thy crafty closing,
Thy cruel eyes reposing;
To drive me from thy sight!
When sleep yields more delight,
Such harmless beauty gracing:
And while sleep feignèd is
May not I steal a kiss
Thy quiet arms embracing?

O that thy sleep dissembled,
Were to a trance resembled!
Thy cruel eyes deceiving,
Of lively sense bereaving:
Then should my love requite
Thy love's unkind despite,
While fury triumphed boldly
In beauty's sweet disgrace;
And lived in deep embrace
Of her that loved so coldly,

Should then my love aspiring,
Forbidden joys desiring,
So far exceed the duty
That Virtue owes to Beauty?
No! Love seek not thy bliss
Beyond a simple kiss!
For such deceits are harmless
Yet kiss a thousand fold;
For kisses may be bold
When lovely sleep is armless.

* * * * *

Come away! come, sweet love!
The golden morning breaks;
All the earth, all the air,
Of love and pleasure speaks!
Teach thine arms then to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,
And mix our souls in mutual bliss!
Eyes were made for beauty's grace
Viewing, ruing, love's long pains;
Procured by beauty's rude disdain.

Come away! come, sweet love!
Do not in vain adorn
Beauty's grace, that should rise
Like to the naked morn!
Lilies on the river's side,
And fair Cyprian flowers newly blown,
Desire no beauties but their own:
Ornament is Nurse of Pride.
Pleasure measure, love's delight,
Haste then, sweet love, our wishèd flight!

* * * * *

Rest awhile, you cruel cares!
Be not more severe than love!
Beauty kills and beauty spares,
And sweet smiles, sad sighs remove.
LAURA, fair Queen of my delight!
Come grant me love, in love's despite!
And if I ever fail to honour thee,
Let this heavenly light I see,
Be as dark as hell to me!

If I speak! My words want weight.
Am I mute! My heart doth break.
If I sigh! She fears deceit.
Sorrow then for me, must speak!
Cruel! unkind! with favour view
The wound that first was made by you!
And if my torments feignèd be,
Let this heavenly light I see,
Be as dark as hell to me!

Never hour of pleasing rest,
Shall revive my dying ghost,
Till my soul hath repossesst
The sweet hope, which love hath lost:
Laura! redeem the soul that dies
By fury of thy murdering eyes!
And if it proves unkind to thee,
Let this heavenly light I see,
Be as dark as hell to me!

* * * * *

Sleep wayward thoughts, and rest you with my Love!
Let not my Love, be with my love diseased!
Touch not proud hands, lest you her anger move!
But pine you with my longings long displeased:
Thus while she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake,
So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.

But O, the fury of my restless fear!
The hidden anguish of my flesh desires!
The glories and the beauties that appear
Between her brows, near CUPID'S closèd fires!
Thus while she sleeps, moves sighing for her sake,
So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.

My love doth rage, and yet my Love doth rest;
Fear in my love, and yet my Love secure;
Peace in my Love, and yet my love opprest;
Impatient, yet of perfect temperature.
Sleep dainty Love, while I sigh for thy sake!
So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.

* * * * *

All ye, whom love or fortune hath betrayed!
All ye that dream of bliss, but live in grief!
All ye whose hopes are evermore delayed!
All ye whose sighs or sickness want relief!
Lend ears and tears to me, most hapless man!
That sings my sorrows like the dying swan!

Care that consumes the heart with inward pain,
Pain that presents sad care in outward view;
Both, tyrant-like, enforce me to complain,
But still in vain, for none my plaints will rue:
Tears, sighs, and ceaseless cries alone I spend.
My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow, end.

* * * * *

Wilt thou, Unkind! thus 'reave me
Of my heart, and so leave me?
Farewell!
But yet, or ere I part, O Cruel!
Kiss me Sweet, my Jewel!
Farewell!

Hope by disdain grows cheerless
Fear doth love, love doth fear
Beauty peerless.
Farewell!

If no delays can move thee!
Life shall die, death shall live
Still to love thee.
Farewell!

Yet be thou mindful ever!
Heat from fire, fire from heat,
None can sever.
Farewell!

True love cannot be changed,
Though delight from desert
Be estranged.
Farewell!

* * * * *

Would my conceit that first inforced my woe,
Or else mine eyes, which still the same increase,
Might be extinct, to end my sorrows so;
Which now are such, as nothing can release.
Whose life is death; whose sweet, each change of sour;
And eke whose hell reneweth every hour.

Each hour, amidst the deep of hell I fry,
Each hour, I waste and wither where I sit;
But that sweet hour, wherein I wish to die,
My hope, alas, may not enjoy it yet.
Whose hope is such bereaved of the bliss,
Which unto all, save me, allotted is.

To all, save me, is free to live or die;
To all, save me, remaineth hap or hope.
But all, perforce, I must abandon!
Since Fortune still directs my hap aslope;
Wherefore to neither hap nor hope I trust,
But to my thrals I yield: for so I must.

* * * * *

Come again! Sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight;
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss,
To die with thee again in sweetest sympathy!

Come again! that I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain!
For now, left and forlorn,
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain, and endless misery.

All the day, the sun that lends me shine
By frowns doth cause me pine,
And feeds me with delay.
Her smiles, my springs, that make my joys to grow:
Her frowns, the winters of my woe.

All the night, my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams;
My heart takes no delight
To see the fruits and joys that some do find,
And mark the storms are me assigned.

Out, alas! my faith is ever true;
Yet she will never rue,
Nor yield me any grace.
Her eyes, of fire; her heart of flint is made:
Whom tears nor truth may once invade.

Gentle LOVE draw forth thy wounding dart!
Thou can'st not pierce her heart!
For I (that do approve
By sighs and tears, more hot than are thy shafts)
Did 'tempt, while she for triumph laughs.

* * * * *

(_On the British Museum Copy, G9, there is the following pencil
note to this Song._ These words by [ROBERT DEVEREUX] the Earl of
ESSEX, and sung before Queen ELIZABETH, in a Masque at Greenwich.)

His golden locks, Time hath to silver turned.
O Time too swift! O swiftness never ceasing!
His Youth, 'gainst Time and Age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain, Youth waneth by increasing.
Beauty, Strength, Youth are flowers but fading seen;
Duty, Faith, Love are roots, and ever green.

His helmet, now, shall make a hive for bees,
And lover's Sonnets turn to holy Psalms;
A man-at-arms must, now, serve on his knees,
And feed on prayers, which are Age's alms:
But though from Court to cottage he depart,
His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.

And when he saddest sits, in homely cell,
H'll teach his swains this Carol for a Song;
_Blest be the hearts that wish my Sovereign well!_
_Curst be the soul that thinks her any wrong!_
Goddess! Allow this aged man his right!
To be your Beadsman now; that was your Knight.

* * * * *

Awake, sweet love! Thou art returned!
My heart, which long in absence mourned,
Lives now in perfect joy.
Only herself hath seemèd fair;
She only could I love.
She only drave me to despair,
When she unkind did prove.

Let love which never, absent, dies;
Now live for ever in her eyes!
Whence came my first annoy:
Despair did make me wish to die
That I my joys might end,
She only, which did make me fly,
My state may now amend.

If she esteem thee now ought worth;
She will not grieve thy love henceforth!
Which so despair hath proved.
Despair hath proved now in me
That love will not unconstant be,
Though long in vain I loved.

If she, at last, reward thy love
And all thy harms repair!
Thy happiness will sweeter prove,
Raised up from deep despair.
And if that now thou welcome be,
When thou with her doth meet;
She all this while, but played with thee,
To make thy joys more sweet.

* * * * *

Come, heavy Sleep! the Image of true Death!
And close up these my weary weeping eyes!
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
And tears my heart with sorrow's sigh-swollen cries.
Come, and possess my tired thoughts! worn soul!
That living dies, till thou on me bestoule!

Come, Shadow of my End; and Shape of Rest!
Allied to Death, Child to this black-fast Night!
Come thou, and charm these rebels in my breast!
Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright.
O come, sweet Sleep! Come, or I die for ever!
Come ere my last sleep comes, or come never!

* * * * *

Away with these self-loving lads,
Whom CUPID's arrow never glads!
Away poor souls that sigh and weep,
In love of them that lie and sleep!
For CUPID is a meadow god,
And forceth none to kiss the rod.

God CUPID's shaft, like Destiny,
Doth either good or ill decree;
Desert is borne out of his bow,
Reward upon his feet doth go.
What fools are they, that have not known
That LOVE likes no laws, but his own!

My songs, they be CYNTHIA's praise:
I wear her rings on holidays.
On every tree, I write her name,
And every day I read the same:
Where HONOUR, CUPID's rival is,
There miracles are seen of his.

If CYNTHIA crave her ring of me,
I'll blot her name out of the tree!
If doubt do darken things held dear,
Then "Well fare nothing!" once a year:
For many run, but one must win.
Fools only, hedge the cuckoo in!

The worth that worthiness should move
Is love; which is the bow of LOVE:
And love as well the For'ster can,
As can the mighty Nobleman.
Sweet saint, 'tis true, you worthy be!
Yet, without love, nought worth to me!

+R[?ICHARD]. Y[?OUNG].+

_The state of a Christian lively set forth,_
_by an allegory of a Ship under Sail._

[This Writer was evidently a forerunner of JOHN BUNYAN.]
Prov. xxxi. 14. Job ix. 26. Isaiah xxiii. 1. Rev. viii. 9.

[Original broadside, inserted in a
distinct work of the Author, called
_The Victory of Patience_. 1636.]

My body is the Hull, the Keel my back, my neck the Stem; the Sides are my ribs, the Beams my bones, my flesh the Planks; gristles and ligaments are the Pintels and Knee-timbers; arteries, veins, and sinews, the several Seams of the ship; my blood is the Ballast, my heart the Principal Hold, my stomach the Cook-room, my liver the Cistern, my bowels the Sink; my lungs the Bellows, my teeth the Chopping-knives; except you divide them, and then they are the 32 Points of the Compass, both agreeing in number. Concoction is the Cauldron, and hunger the Salt or Sauce. My belly is the Lower Deck, my kidneys Close Cabins or receptacles, my thighs are Long Galleries for the grace of the ship; my arms and hands the Canhooks, my midriff is a large partition or Bulkhead. Within the circumference of my head is placed the Steeridge Room and Chief Cabins, with the Round-house [_now called the Captain's Cabin_] where the Master lieth: and these for the more safety and decency are enclosed in a double fence; the one _Dura mater_, something hard and thick [_the skull_], the other _Pia mater_, very thin and soft [_the hair_], which serveth instead of hangings. The ears are two doors or Scuttles fitly placed for entertainment; the two eyes are Casements to let in light; under them, is my mouth, the Stowage or Steward's Room. My lips are Hatches for receipt of goods, my two nostrils serve as Gratings to let in air. At the one end stands my chin, which is the Beakhead. My forehead is the Upper Deck; all which being trimmed with my fat instead of Pitch, and hair instead of Oakum, are coloured with my skin.

The Fore Deck is humility, the Stern, charity. Active obedience, the Sails; which being hoisted up with the several Yards, Halliards, and Bowlines of holy precepts and good purposes; are let down again by fickleness, faintings and inconstancy. Reason is my Rudder, experience the Helm, hope of salvation my Anchor, passive obedience the Capstan, holy revenge the Cat and Fish to haul the Sheet Anchor or last hope. Fear of offending is the Buoy, virtues are the Cables, holy desires and sudden ejaculations the Shrouds. The zeal of GOD's glory is my Mainmast, premeditation the Foremast, desire of my own salvation the Mizenmast, saving knowledge the Bowsprit, circumspection a Sounding line.

My Light is illumination; justice is the Card [_Map_]; GOD's Word, the Compass; the meditation of life's brevity, a Four-Hour Glass [_i.e._, _the length of a ship's watch_]; contemplation of the creatures, the Cross-staff or Jacob's-staff; the creed, a Sea-Grammar; the life of CHRIST, my Load-Star. The saint's falls are Sea-marks; good examples, Land-marks. Repentance pumps out the sink of my sins, a good conscience keeps me clean. Imputative righteousness is my Flag, having this motto, _Being cast down, we perish not!_ the Flag-staff is sincerity.

The ship is victualled afresh by reading, hearing, receiving. Books are Long-boats, letters are little Skiffs to carry and recarry my spiritual merchandise. Perseverance is my Speed, and patience my Name. My Fire is lust, which will not be clean extinguished: full feeding and strong drink are the Fuel to maintain it; whose Flame, if it be not suppressed, is jealousy; whose Sparks are evil words, whose Ashes are envy; whose Smoke is infamy. Lascivious talk is a Flint and Steel, concupiscence as Tinder, opportunity the Match to light it, sloth and idleness are the Servants to prepare it.

The LAW OF GOD is my Pilot, FAITH my Captain, FORTITUDE the Master, CHASTITY the Master's Mate, my WILL the Coxswain, CONSCIENCE the Preacher [_or, as we now say, Chaplain_], APPLICATION OF CHRIST'S DEATH the Surgeon, MORTIFICATION the Cook, VIVIFICATION the Caulker, SELF-DENIAL an Apprentice of his, TEMPERANCE the Steward, CONTENTATION his Mate, TRUTH the Purser, THANKFULNESS the Purser's Mate, REFORMATION the Boatswain, the Four HUMOURS, SANGUINE, CHOLER, &c., are the Quarter-masters; CHRISTIAN VIGILANCY undertakes to supply the office of the Starboard and Larboard Watches, MEMORY is the Clerk of the Cheque, ASSURANCE the Corporal, the Armour INNOCENCY, the Mariners, ANGELS.

Schismatics are Searchers sent abroad. My UNDERSTANDING, as Master Gunner, culls out from those two Budge-casks of the _Old_ and _New Testaments_ certain threats and promises which are my only Powder and Shot; and with the assistance of the Gunner's Mate, HOLY ANGER AGAINST SIN, chargeth my tongue, which, like to a piece of ordnance, shoots them to the shame and overthrow of my spiritual Adversaries.

My noble passengers are JOY IN THE HOLY GHOST and PEACE OF CONSCIENCE, whose retinue are DIVINE GRACES. My ignoble or rather mutinous passengers are WORLDLY COGITATIONS and VAIN DELIGHTS which are more than a good many; besides some that are arrant thieves and traitors, namely, PRIDE, ENVY, PREJUDICE: but all these I will bid farewell to, when I come to my journey's end; though I would, but cannot, before.

Heaven is my Country, where I am Registered in the Book of Life, my King is JEHOVAH. My Tribute alms-deeds: they which gather it are the poor. Love is my country's Badge, my Language is holy conference, my Fellow Companions are the saints.

I am poor in performances, yet rich in GOD's acceptation. The Foundation of all my good is GOD's free election. I became Bound into the Corporation of the Church to serve Him, in my baptism. I was Enrolled at the time when He first called me. My Freedom is justification. It was Purchased with the blood of CHRIST. My Evidence is the earnest of His spirit. My Privileges are His sanctifying graces. My Crown, reserved for me on high, is glorification.

My Maker and Owner is GOD; who built me by His Word, which is CHRIST; of earth, which was the Material; He freighted it with the essence of my Soul, which is the Treasure; and hath set me to sail in the Sea of this world, till I attain to the Port of death: which letteth the terrestrial part into the Harbour of the grave, and the celestial part into the Kingdom of Heaven. In which voyage, conveniency of estate [_comfortable circumstances_] is as sea room; good affections serve as a tide; and prayer as a prosperous gale, a wind to help forward.

But innumerable are the impediments and perils. For here I meet with the profers of unlawful gain and sensual delights, as so many SIRENS; the baits of prosperity, as High Banks, on the right hand or Weather Shore; and there with evil suggestions and crabbed adversity, as Rocks, on the left hand or Lee Shore, ready to split me. The fear of hell, like Quicksands, threatens to swallow me; original sin like Weeds clog me, and actual transgressions like so many Barnacles hang about me. Yea, every sin I commit springs a new Leak. My senses are as so many Storms of Rain, Hail, and Snow to sink me. Lewd affections are Roaring Billows and Waves. Self-confidence, or to rely upon anything but the Divine assistance, is to lose the Bowsprit. Restitution is heaving goods overboard to save the ship. Melancholy is want of Fresh Water. The scoffs of atheists, and contempt of religion in all places is a notable becalming; the lewd lives and evil examples of them most a contagious air. Idleness furrs it, and is a shrewd decay, both of the Hull and Tackling.

* * * * *

Moreover, sailing along, and keeping Watch (for they that be CHRIST's friends, you know! must look for all they meet to be their enemies), we no sooner look up, but presently we ken a Man of War, and then we must be for war too, and provide for a skirmish.

Now the Galleon that hath our Pinnace in chase, and always watcheth for advantages to surprise it, is the Piracy of Hell; the Synagogue of SATAN. Her Freight is temptations and persecutions, with all the engines of mischief. In which the DEVIL is Master, MALICE the Master's Mate, CRUELTY the Captain, MURDER the Cook, FLATTERY the Caulker, PROFANENESS a Quartermaster, RIOT the Steward, NEVER CONTENT his Mate, PRIDE the Coxswain, SUPERSTITION the Preacher, HYPOCRISY the Boatswain, COVETOUSNESS the Purser, LUST the Swabber, FURY the Gunner, PRESUMPTION the Corporal, SEDITION the Trumpeter, DRUNKENNESS the Drummer.

Vices are the Sails, custom the Mainmast, example of the multitude the Foremast, lusts and passions the Cables, blindness of mind the Rudder, hardness of heart the Helm, the wisdom of the flesh the Card, the mystery of iniquity the Compass. The five senses, or if you will, scoffing Atheists, profane foul-mouthed drunkards, and all the rabble of hell are the Mariners. Lewd affections the Passengers, LITTLE CONSCIENCE the Load star.

She hath two tire of great ordnance planted in her, Heresy and Irreligion; being either for a false god, or none. Oaths, blasphemy, and curses are the Powder and Shot: which they spit against all that worship the LAMB, or fight under the Ensign of Faith. Her Armour is carnal security. The Flag in her Top is infidelity: the motto, _There is no god, but gain!_

Her Ballast, which keeps her upright, is Ignorance. Most of her Tackling she has from Rome, or Amsterdam. ANTICHRIST, as Pilot, steers her in such a course that she goes on swiftly, proudly, securely, scorning and scoffing (SENNACHERIB like) to hear that any Lord should deliver this poor Pinnace out of her hands.

Yet in the sequel, this silly Pink, having the Insurance of GOD's omnipresence, finds not only succour from the Stock of the Church's prayers, which, like another Merchantman, come in to the rescue: but, likewise that GOD's Almighty power and providence is near at hand, as a strong Castle of Defence to free her, whereby she escapes, even as a bird out of the snare of the hunter, to praise the LORD: who hath not given her as a prey unto their teeth, that would have swallowed up all quick; but delivered her from such swelling waters, floods of affliction and streams of persecution, as else had gone over her and even drowned her soul, as it is _Psalm_ cxxiv. While this great Galleon (though it seems like that Invincible Armada) flies; and, having no Anchor, when the storms of GOD's wrath arise, down she sinks to desperation; and perisheth in the bottomless pit or burning lake of fire and brimstone: where we will leave her to receive a just recompense of reward.

R. Y.

_London. Printed by THOMAS COTES for the Author; and_
_are to be sold by Sarah Fairbeard, at the_
_North Door of the Royal Exchange_,
1636.

[? +THOMAS OCCLEVE+,

Clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal.]
_The Letter of CUPID._

[Old forms like _servin_, serve; _wollin_, will; _tellin_, tell;
_doin_, done; and the Imperatives _bethe_, be; _telleth_, tell;
occur in this Poem.]

[Urry's edition of CHAUCER's _Works_. ii. 534. _Ed._ 1721.]

Cupido, (unto whose commandèment
The gentle kindred of goddis on high
And people infernal be obedient;
And all mortal folk servin busily),
Of the goddess son, CYTHEREA only;
Unto all those that, to our deity
Be subjects, heartily greeting, send we!

In general, we wollin that ye know
That Ladies of honour and reverence,
And other Gentlewomen havin sow[n]
Such seed of complaint in our audience,
Of men that do them outrage and offence;
That it our earis grieveth for to hear,
So piteous is the effect of this matere.

Passing all landis, on the little isle
That clepèd is Albion, they most complain,
They say that there, is crop and root of guile:
So can those men dissimulin and feign,
With standing dropis in their eyin twain;
When that their heartis feeleth no distress,
To blindin women with their doubleness.

Their wordis, spoken be so sighingly,
With so piteous a cheer and countenance
That every wight that meaneth truly
Deemeth they in heart havin such grievance.
They say, "So importable is their penance,
That but their lady lust to shew them grace
They, right anon, must starvin in the place."

"Ah, Lady mine!" they say, "I you ensure
As doth me grace! and I shall ever be,
While that my life may lasting and endure
To you as humble and low in each degree
As possible is, and keep all things in secre[t]
Right as your selfin listeth that I do!
And ellis mine heartè must burst in two."

Full hard it is, to know a manis heart
For outward may no man the truthè deem.
When word out of the mouth, may none astert
But it, by reason seemed a wight to queme,
So it is said of heart, as it would seem.
O faithful woman! full of innocence!
Thou art deceivèd by false appearance!

By process moveth oft woman's pity.
Weening all things were as these men ysay,
They grant them grace, of their benignity,
For that men shouldin not, for their sake die,
And with good heart, settin them in the way
Of blissful love: keepin it, if they con!
And thus, otherwhile, women bethe ywon.

And when this man, the pan hath by the steel
And fully is in his possession;
With that woman keepeth he no more to deal
After, if he may findin in the town
Any woman, his blind affection
Unto bestow. But evil mote he preve!
A man, for all his oaths, is hard to believe!