Chapter I: LOVE you well, yourself can tell

Let Virtue guide my lawful Bride!
Sure you mistake! That bargain's to make.
My tender heart, disdain makes smart.
My love shall ever faithful prove!
I moan because I lie alone.
Absence ne'er parts two loving hearts.
This and the giver are thine for ever.
I vow to kiss her that reads this.
The love I owe in this I show.
No turtle dove shall shew more love!
As I affect thee, so respect me.
The gift is small, but Love is all.
When this you see, remember me!
This to a friend I freely send.
Well directed, if well accepted.
I'll not express what you may guess.
When this you see, think well of me!
Virtue and Love are from above.
More near to me than life can be.
Though friends cross love, we'll meet above!
'Tis Love alone makes two but one.
You and I will Lovers die.
I seek to be both thine and thee.
I am sure to die, if you deny.
In thee each part doth catch a heart.
My true love is endless as this.
When CUPID fails, the eye prevails.
Your blest sight is my delight.
I wish to have, but blush to crave.
I wish you knew what I owe you.
My constant love shall ne'er remove.
Take this in part of my true heart.
For one sweet kiss I give you this.
Nothing for thee too dear can be!
Desire like fire doth still aspire.
In troth you know it must be so.
My love you know, then say not "No!"
If you this forego, you are my foe!
I love thee JOAN, and thee alone!
I love thee JOHN; therefore come on!
My mind is bent, and I am content.
I'll venture till I find Love's centre.
I were an ass, should I let you pass.
In midst of grief, Love sends relief.
Where hearts agree, no strife can be.
I joy to find a constant mind.
Love never dies where Virtue lies.
Love's delight is to unite.
Let friend nor foe this secret know!
I must confess love goes by guess.
The nigher kin, the further in.
What I have done declare to none!
My name is HARRY, and DOLL I'll marry!
Come when you will, I am yours still.
I'll take my oath, to part I am loath.
I'll swear and vow that I love you!
I hope to meet some kisses sweet.
Though this be small, you shall have all!
When I am well; have at thee, NELL!
I hope your mind's to love inclined.
Forgive, or else I cannot live.
You'll ever find me very kind.
I am full of love towards you my dove.
I this present with good intent.
What more I owe, you'll shortly know.
True friends, by love are made amends.
CUPID's command; who can withstand?
Think well of me when this you see.
When you see this, blow me a kiss!
My only joy, be not so coy!
I love till death shall stop my breath.
Unto the end, I'll be your friend!

LICIA,

or

POEMS OF LOVE

in honour of the admirable and singular virtues of his Lady.

To the imitation of the best Latin Poets, and others.

WHEREUNTO IS ADDED The Rising to the Crown of RICHARD THE THIRD.

_Auxit Musarum numerum SAPPHO addita Musis. Fælix si sævus, sic voluisset Amor._

In the First of the _Piscatory Eclogues_, which PHINEAS
FLETCHER included in the Volume containing his _Purple
Island_, printed at Cambridge in 1633 in 4to; he clearly
describes, in the person of THELGON, the career of
his father, GILES FLETCHER the Elder, LL.D.: who went
English Ambassador to Muscovy; and, on his return home,
published, in 1591, a book entitled _Of the Russ Common
Wealth_; which was quickly suppressed, lest it might give
offence to the Czar.

The Ninth Stanza of this First _Piscatory Eclogue_ thus
begins:

And whether Nature, joined with Art, had wrought me;
Or I too much believed the Fisher's praise;
Or whether PHŒBUS self, or Muses, taught me;
Too much inclined to Verse and music Plays:
So far credulity and youth had brought me,
I sang....

THELGON then specifies the subjects of his Latin and
English Poems: amongst which, in the next Stanza, occurs
this line:

And raised my rhyme to sing of _RICHARD's climbing_.

Upon this allusion the authorship of _LICIA_ is ascribed
to PHINEAS FLETCHER's father.

The original edition of these Poems is undated. It was
printed (? privately printed) however about September
1593; as will be seen from the date on pages 419, 423.

_Ad Amorem._

Si cœlum patria est puer beatum,
Si vero peperit VENUS benigna,
Si Nectar tibi Massicum ministrat;
Si sancta Ambrosia est cibus petitus,
Quid noctes habitas, diesque mecum?
Quid victum face supplicemque aduris?
Quid longam lachrimis sitim repellis?
Quid nostræ dape pasceris medullæ?
O vere rabidum genus færarum:
O domo stige patriaque digne:
Jam levis sumus umbra, quid lacessis?

_Ad Lectorem._

Non convitia, nec latrationes,
Nec Ronchos timeo, calumniasve,
Nec ullos obelos severiores.
Non quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tantus, nihil ut queat reprehendi:
Sed quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tam ridiculus, parumque doctus,
Ut nullum fore judicem eruditum,
Meos carpere qui velit labores:
Nam quis Æthiopem velit lavare?

_To the Worshipful, kind, wise, and virtuous Lady, the Lady MOLLINEUX, Wife to the right Worshipful Sir RICHARD MOLLINEUX Knight._

HOWSOEVER, in the settled opinions of some wise heads, this trifling labour may easily incur the suspicion of two evils; either to be of an idle subject, and so frivolous; or vainly handled, and so odious: yet my resolute purpose was to proceed so far as the indifferent [_impartial_] Reader might think this small pains to be rather an effect, than a cause, of idleness. And howsoever LOVE, in this Age, hath behaved himself in that loose manner as it is counted a disgrace to give him but a kind look: yet I take the passion in itself to be of that honour and credit as it is the perfect resemblance of the greatest happiness; and rightly valued at his just price, in a mind that is sincerely and truly amorous, an affection of the greatest virtue, and able of himself to eternize the meanest vassal.

Concerning the handling of it, especially in this Age, men may wonder, if a Scholar, How I come by so much leisure? If otherwise, Why a Writer? Indeed to say truth, though I cannot justly challenge the first name; yet I wish none to be Writers, save only such as know Learning. And whereas my thoughts and some reasons drew me rather to have dealt in causes of greater weight; yet the present jar of this disagreeing Age drives me into a fit so melancholy as I only had leisure to grow passionate. And I see not why, upon our dissensions, I may not sit down idle, forsake my study, and go sing of Love; as well as our Brownists forsake the Church, and write of malice.

And that this is a matter not so unfit for a man, either that respecteth himself, or is a Scholar; peruse but the writings of former times: and you shall see, not only others in other countries, as Italy and France, Men of Learning and great parts to have written Poems and Sonnets of Love; but even amongst us, men of best nobility and chiefest families to be the greatest Scholars and most renowned in this kind. But two reasons hath made it a thing foolishly odious in this Age. The one, that so many base companions are the greatest Writers. The other, that our English Genevian Purity hath quite debarred us of honest recreation: yet the great Pillar, as they make him [_i.e._ JEAN CALVIN], of that Cause hath shewed us as much wit and learning in this kind as any other before or since.

Furthermore for all students, I will say thus much; that the base conceit which men generally have of their wants is such, as I scarce term him a Scholar that hath not all the accomplyments [_accomplishments_] of a Gentleman; nor sufficiently wise that will not take opportunity in some sort to shew it. For I can say thus much, that the University wherein I lived [_evidently Cambridge_], and so I think the other [_Oxford_], hath so many wise, excellent, sufficient, men as, setting their learning aside wherein they are most excellent, yet in all habiliments of a Gentleman they are equal to any besides. This would that worthy SYDNEY oft confess; and [Sir JOHN] HARINGTON's _ARIOSTO_ (which, Madam, was respected so much by you) sheweth that his abode was in King's College [Cambridge]. Yet now it is grown to this pass, that Learning is lightly respected; upon a persuasion that it is to be found everywhere: a thing untrue and unpossible.

Now in that I have written Love Sonnets; if any man measure my affection by my style, let him say, I am in love. No great matter! For if our purest Divines have not been so, why are so many married? I mislike not that, nor I would not have them mislike this. For a man may be in love, and not marry; and yet wise: but he cannot marry and not be in love, but be a mere fool.

Now for the manner. We will dispute that in some other place; yet take this by the way: though I am so liberal to grant thus much--a man may write of Love and not be in love; as well as of husbandry and not go to the plough; or of witches and be none; or of holiness and be flat profane.

But, wise and kind Lady, not to trouble your ears with this idle discourse, let this suffice. I found favours undeserved in such manner as my rude ability wants means to recompence; and therefore in the mean time I request you to accept this. If I had not so wondered at your admirable and rare virtues that my heart was surcharged with the exceeding measure of your worthiness, I had not written. You are happy every way, and so reputed. Live so, and I wish so you may live long! Excuse me, favour me: and, if I live (for I loath to admire without thankfulness), ere long it shall be known what favours I received from wise Sir RICHARD; to whom in all kind affects I rest bound.

For the Reader, if he look for my letters to crave his favour; he is far deceived. For if he mislike anything, I am sorry he took the pains to read: but if he do, let him dispraise; I much care not. For praise is not but as men please, and it is no chief felicity. For I have heard some men, and of late, for Sermons at Paul's Cross and for other pains, so commended by all, excepting some few Cynics that commend none that do well, that you would have thought England would have striven for their speedy preferment: but, like a wonder, it last but nine days; and all is quiet and forgotten. The best is, they are young men and may live to be preferred at another time. So what am I worse if men mislike and use terms? I can say as much by them. For our great men, I am sure, they want leisure to read: and if they had; yet, for the most part, the worst speak worst.

Well let the Printer look he grow not a beggar by such bargains, the Reader that he lose not his labour, and for mine that is past! And whoso wisely, after an afternoon's sleep, gapes, and saith, "O how young men spend their time idly!"; first, let him spend his time better than to sleep: secondly, he knows not my age. I feared a hot ague; and, with TASSO, I was content to let my Wit blood.

But leaving these to their dogged humour; and wishing your Ladyship all happiness, I humbly take my leave.

From my chamber. September 4, 1593.

_To the Reader._