Chapter III: Part 3

Yet still it came, to welcome her it came,
And not to hurt, yet fearefull is the name,
The name more then the Lion, her dismayd,
For in her lap the Lion would haue playd.
Nor meant the beast to spill her guilelesse bloud,
Yet doubtfull _Thisbe_ in a fearefull moode,
Let fall her mantle, made of purest white,
And tender heart, betooke her straight to flight,
And neere the place where she should meet her loue,
Shee slipt, but quickely slipt into a groue,
And lo a friendly Caue did entertaine her,
For feare the bloudy Lion should haue slaine her.

19

_Thisbe_ thus scap't, for thus she scap't his force,
Although (God wot) it fell out farther worse:
The Lion came yet meant no harme at all,
And comming found the mantle she let fall,
Which now he kist, he would haue kist her too,
But that her nimble footmanship said no.
He found the robe, which quickly he might find,
For being light, it houered in the winde:
VVith which the game-some Lion long did play,
Till hunger cald him thence to seeke his prey:
And hauing playd, for play was all his pleasure,
He left the mantle, _Thisbes_ chiefest treasure.

20

Yet ere he left it, being in a mood,
He tore it much, and stain'd it ore with bloud,
Which done, with rage he hasted to his prey,
For they in murther passe their time away.
And now time-telling, _Pyramus_ at last,
(For yet the houre of meeting was not past)
Got forth (he would haue got away before)
But fate and fortune sought to wrong him more:
For euen that day, more fatall then the rest,
He needs must giue attendance at a feast,
Ere which was done (swift time was shrewdly wasted)
But being done, the louely stripling hasted.

21

In hast he ran, but ran in vaine God wot,
_Thisbe_ he sought, faire _Thisbe_ found he not,
And yet at last her long loue robe he found
All rent and torne vpon the bloody ground.
At which suspicion told him she was dead,
And onely that remained in her stead:
Which made him weepe, like mothers, so wept he,
That with their eyes their murthered children see;
And gathering vp the limbes in peecemeale torne,
Of their deare burthen murtherously forlorne:
So _Pyramus_ sicke thoughted like a mother,
For _Thisbes_ losse, more deare then any other.

22

Or who hath seene a mournefull Doe lament
For her young Kid, in peecemeale torne and rent,
And by the poore remainders sit and mourne,
For loue of that which (out alas) is gone?
Let him behold sad _Pyramus_, and say,
Her losse, his loue, doth equall euery way.
For as a man that late hath lost his wits,
Breakes into fury and disaster fits,
So _Pyramus_ in griefe without compare,
Doth rend his flesh, and teare his golden haire,
Making the trees to tremble at his mourning,
And speechlesse beasts to sorrow with his groaning.

23

Alas (quoth he) and then he tore his flesh,
Gone is the sunne that did my Zone refresh,
Gone is the life, by which I wretch did liue,
Gone is my heauen, which hopefull blisse did giue,
To giue me heat, her selfe lyes nak't and cold,
To giue me life, to death her selfe she sold,
To giue me ioy, she bale alas did gaine,
My heat, life, ioy, procur'd her death, bale, paine:
Had I beene here, my loue had not beene dead,
At least the beasts had torne me in her stead,
Or would they yet teare me for company,
Their loue to me would slacke their tyranny.

24

And then he cast his eyes vpon the ground,
And here and there where bloudie grasse he found;
Sweet bloud (quoth he) and then he kist the bloud,
And yet that kisse God wot did little good,
Couldst thou being powr'd into my halfe slaine brest,
Reuiue againe, or purchase _Thisbes_ rest,
This hand should teare a passage through the same,
And yet that bloud from _Thisbe_ neuer came,
And then be gatherd vp the bloudie grasse,
And looking grieu'd, and grieuing cryde alas,
Where shall I hide this bloud of my deare louer,
That neither man nor beast may it discouer?

25

Then in the mantle he the grasse vp tide,
And laid it close vnto his naked side:
Lie there (quoth he) deare to me as my hart,
Of which thy mistresse had the greater part.
Tut she is dead, and then he vow'd and swore,
He would not liue to murther loue no more:
Which spoke, he drew his Rapier from his side,
Of which the loue-slaine youth would then haue dy'd,
But that he thought, that pennance too too small,
To pacifie faire _Thisbes_ Ghost withall:
Wherefore he rag'd, and ragingly exclaimed,
That he true loue, and true loue him had maimed.

26

And then his Rapier vp againe he tooke,
Then on the mantle cast a grieuous looke.
For me (quoth he) faire _Thisbe_ lost this bloud,
She dead, my life would doe me little good,
And well he thought he could endure the smart
Of death, and yet he could not harme his heart:
For why his hand being guiltlesse of the deed,
Deny'd to make his harmelesse heart to bleed,
And like a trembling executioner,
Constrain'd to slay a guiltelesse prisoner,
His hand retired still, further backe and further,
As lothing to enact so vile a murther.

27

But _Pyramus_ like to a raging Iudge,
Seeing his executioner flinch, and grudge
To do the duty he enioyn'd him do,
Reply'd, dispatch, or Ile cut thee off too:
At which the trembling hand tooke vp the blade,
But when the second profer it had made,
It threw it downe, and boldly thus replyed,
He was not cause that louely _Thisbe_ dyed,
Nor would I slay thee, knew I she were dead:
Then be the bloud vpon thy guiltie head.
Of these last words young _Pyramus_ dispences,
And cald a synodie of all his seuer'd sences.

28

His conscience told him, he deserv'd not death,
For he deprav'd not _Thisbe_ of her breath:
But then suspicion thought, he causd her dye,
But conscience swore, suspition told a lye.
At this suspicion prompted loue in th'eare,
And bad him shew his verdict, and come neare,
Which soone he did, and fate among the rest,
As one whom _Pyramus_ esteemed best:
For when proud Loue gaue in his faultie plea,
He askt if he were guiltie, Loue said yea,
And with the youth, fond youth by loue entangled,
Agreed his guiltlesse body should be mangled.

29

Resolv'd to die, he sought the pointed blade,
Which erst his hand had cast into the shade,
And see, proud Chance, fell Murthers chiefest frend,
Had pitcht the blade right vpwards on the end,
Which being loth from murther to depart,
Stood on the hilt, point-blanke against his hart:
At which he smil'd, and checkt his fearefull hand,
That stubbornely resisted his command.
And though (quoth he) thou scorn'd to doe my will,
What lets me now my minde for to fulfill?
Both Fate and Fortune to my death are willing,
And be thou witnesse of my minds fulfilling.

30

With that he cast himselfe vpon the sword,
And with the fall his tender brest through gor'd:
The angry bloud, for so his bloud was sheed,
Gusht out, to finde the author of the deed,
But when it none but _Pyramus_ had found,
Key cold with feare it stood vpon the ground,
And all the bloud, I meane that thus was spilt,
Ran downe the blade, and circled in the hilt,
And presently congeald about the same,
And would haue cald it by some murtherous name,
Could it haue spoke, nere sought it any further,
But did arrest the Rapier of the murther.

31

And as the child that seeth his father slaine,
Will runne (alas) although he runne in vaine,
And hug about the shedder of his bloud,
Although God wot, his hugging do small good,
Euen so his bloud, the ofspring of his heart,
Ran out amaine, to take his fathers part,
And hung vpon the rapier and the hilt,
As who should say, the sword his bloud had spilt:
Nor would depart, but cleaue about the same,
So deare it lov'd the place from whence it came:
For sure it was poore _Pyramus_ was murthered,
Nor by pursute, could his poore bloud be furthred.

32

When this was done, as thus the deed was done,
Begun, alas, and ended too too soone,
Faire _Thisbe_ strucken pale with cold despaire,
Came forth the Caue into the wholsome aire:
And as she came, the boughs would giue her way,
Thinking her _Venus_ in her best array.
But she (alas) full of suspicious feare,
Least that the late feard Lion should be there,
Came quaking forth, and then start backe againe,
Fearing the beast, and yet she fear'd in vaine.
She fear'd the Lion, Lions then were feeding,
And in this feare, her nose gusht out a bleeding.

33

Her sudden bleeding argued some mischance,
Which cast her doubtfull senses in a trance,
But of the Lion troubled _Thisbe_ thought,
And then of him, whom fearefully she sought:
Yet forth she went, replete with iealous feare,
Still fearing, of the Lion was her feare:
And if a bird but flew from forth a bush,
She straightwaies thought, she heard the Lion rush.
Her nose left bleeding, that amaz'd her more
Then all the troublous feare she felt before:
For sudden bleeding argues ill ensuing,
But sudden leauing, is fell feares renewing.

34

By this she came into the open wood,
Where _Pyramus_ had lost his dearest bloud,
And round about she rolles her sun bright eyes
For _Pyramus_, whom no where she espies;
Then forth she tript, and nearly too she tript,
And ouer hedges oft this virgin skipt.
Then did she crosse the fields, and new mown grasse,
To find the place whereas this arbour was:
For it was seated in a pleasant shade,
And by the shepheards first this bowre was made.
Faire _Thisbe_ made more haste into the bower,
Because that now was iust the meeting hower.

35

But comming thither, as she soone was there,
She found him not, which did augment her feare:
But straight she thought (as true loue thinks the best)
He had beene laid downe in the shade to rest,
Or of set purpose hidden in the reeds,
To make her seeke him in the sedgie weeds,
For so of children they had done before,
Which made her thoughts seeme true so much the more:
But hauing sought whereas she thought he was,
Shee could not finde her _Pyramus_ (alas)
Wherefore she back return'd vnto the arbor,
And there reposd her after all her labor.

36

To one that's weary drowsie sleepe will creepe,
Weary was _Thisbe_, _Thisbe_ fell asleepe,
And in her sleepe she dreamt she did lament,
Thinking her heart from forth her brest was rent,
By her owne censure damn'd to cruell death,
And in her sight bereft of vitall breath.
When she awak't, as long she had not slept,
She wept amaine, yet knew not why she wept:
For as before her heart was whole and sound,
And no defect about her could be found,
She dreamt she hurt, no hurt could she discouer,
Wherefore she went to seeke her late lost louer.

37

Suspicious eyes, quick messengers of wo,
Brought home sad newes ere _Thisbe_ farre could go:
For lo, vpon the margent of the wood,
They spy'd her loue, lye weltring in his bloud,
Hauing her late lost mantle at his side,
Stained with bloud, his hart bloud was not dry'd.
VVisty she lookt, and as she lookt did cry,
See, see, my hart, which I did iudge to dye:
Poore hart (quoth she) and then she kist his brest,
VVert thou inclosd in mine, there shouldst thou rest:
I causd thee die poore heart, yet rue thy dying,
And saw thy death, as I asleepe was lying.

38

Thou art my hart, more deare then is mine owne,
And thee sad death in my false sleepe was showne:
And then she pluckt away the murtherous blade,
And curst the hands by whom it first was made,
And yet she kist his hand that held the same,
And double kist the wound from whence it came.
Him selfe was author of his death she knew,
For yet the wound was fresh, and bleeding new,
And some bloud yet the ill-made wound did keepe,
VVhich when she saw, she freshly gan to weepe,
And wash the wound with fresh tears down distilling,
And view'd the same (God wot) with eyes vnwilling.

39

She would haue spoke, but griefe stopt vp her breath,
For me (quoth she) my Loue is done to death,
And shall I liue, sighes stopt her hindmost word,
When speechlesse vp she tooke the bloudy sword,
And then she cast a looke vpon her Loue,
Then to the blade her eye she did remoue.
And sobbing cride, since loue hath murthred thee,
He shall not chuse but likewise murther me:
That men may say, and then she sigh'd againe,
I him, he me, loue him and me hath slaine.
Then with resolue, loue her resolue did further:
With that same blade, her selfe, her selfe did murther.

40

Then with a sigh, she fell vpon the blade,
And from the bleeding wound the sword had made,
Her fearefull bloud ran trickling to the ground,
And sought about, till _Pyramus_ it found:
And hauing found him, circled in his corse,
As who should say, Ilegard thee by my force.
And when it found his bloud, as forth it came,
Then would it stay, and touch, and kisse the same,
As who should say, my mistresse loue to thee,
Though dead in her, doth still remaine in me,
And for a signe of mutuall loue in either,
Their ill shed bloud congealed both together.

_FINIS._

_Diella_,
Certaine Sonnets, adioyned
to the amorous Poeme of
_Dom Diego_ and _Gineura_.

_By R. L. Gentleman_.

Benballa, á chi fortuna suona.

AT LONDON,
Printed for _Henry Olney_, and are
to be sold at his shop in Fleetstreete,
neer the Middle-temple gate.
1596.

THE LOVE OF DOM
_Diego_ and _Gyneura_.

In _Catheloygne_, o'repeerd by _Pyren_ Mountaines,
(a Prouince seated in the East of Spaine,
Famous for hunting sports & cleerest fountains)
a young heroyck gallant did remaine;
Hee, Signior _Dom Diego_ had to name,
Who for his constant faith had got such fame.

Nature had tryde her deepest skill on him,
(for so the heauen-borne powers had her desired)
With such perfection framed shee each lim,
that at her owne worke shee herselfe admired.
Maiestick _Ioue_ gaue him a Princely grace,
_Apollo_ wit, and _Venus_ gaue his face.

This loue-some youth, kinde Natures fairest child,
what for his beautious loue-alluring face,
And for he was so gracious and so milde;
was deem'd of all to be of heauenly race;
Men honord him, and Maydens gaue him loue,
To make him famous Men and Maydens stroue.

Hunting he lou'd, nor did he scorne to loue,
(a truer-louing hart was neuer knowne)
Which well his Mistres cruelly did proue,
whose causelesse rigor Fame abroad hath blowne.
But now lets tell, how hee on hunting went,
And in what sports such pleasant time he spent.

Soone as the sunne had left his watry bed.
(blushing for shame that he so long had slept)
Reuiuing those which duskie Night made dead,
when for his welcom Lambes on mountains lept.
Vp starts _Diego_, and with shrill-voyc'd horne.
Tells hounds & huntsmen of a cleere-fac'd morne.

Cloth'd all in Greene, (_Syluanus_ lyuery)
he wore a low-crown'd hat of finest silke,
Whose brim turnd vp, was fastned with a Ruby,
and vnderneath, a Pearle as white as milke,
A sleeueles coate of Damaske, richly laced
With Indian pearle, as thicke as could be placed.

A glistring Cutlax pendent by his side,
(he much esteem'd y^t beast-dismembring blade)
And halfe-leg'd Buskins curiously ytide
with loopes of burnisht gold full finely made,
Thus goes _Diego_, chiefest of his name,
With siluer-headed speare to finde some game.

Long while it was ere any sport began,
at last a Hart his big-growne hornes did shew,
VVhich (winding straight the huntsmen) gan to run
as fast as arrow from a Parthyan bow:
In whose pursute (by wil of powreful Fates)
_Diego_ lost himfelfe, and all his mates.

Left thus alone in midst of vnknowne place,
he inuocates the fauourable ayde
Of _Ariadne_, who with smalest lace,
freed Monster-killing _Theseus_, so dismaid,
In worser Laborinth did he now remaine,
For none saue trees or beasts, could heare him plain.

In these Meanders, stragling heere and there,
goes faire _Diego_, listning to each sound,
Musing twixt purple hope, and palish feare,
he thought to rest him (wearied) on the ground,
But see, he heares a farre some forced noyse,
A horne, a hound, or els some human voyce.

VVith that, Desire, which scornes least tedious let,
directed him vnto that very place,
Where loe to hunt the tymerous Hare, were met
as Knights, so Ladies, fittest for that chase:
Mongst which, there came a Grace of heau[=e]ly faire,
Her name _Gyneura_, with the golden hayre.

Her hayre of such corruscant glitterous shine,
as are the smallest streames of hottest sunne,
Like starres in frostie night, so looke her eyne,
within whose Arches Christall springs doe run,
Her cheekes faire show of purest Porphyrie,
Full curiously were typt with roseall die.

Her lips like ripened Cherries seem'd to be,
from out whose concaue Corrall-seeming Fount,
Came sweeter breath then muske of Araby,
whose teeth y^e white of blanched pearle surmount
Her necke the Lillies of _Lyguria_
Did much exceed; Thus looked fayre _Gyneura_.

These Dryades _Diego_ then bespake,
with sugred tearmes of mildest curtesie,
And crau'd to know which way he best might take
with shortest cut, to such a Signiory,
Whereat he nam'd himselfe; when presently
The Ladies knew him (as a Neyghbour by.)

_Gyneuras_ Mother (cheefe of all the rest)
(for that shee knew his birth and his discent)
Desir'd him home, he grants her such request,
and thanks the Fates that him such hap had lent,
For still on faire _Gyneura_ were his eyes,
And shee reciprocally on his replyes.

These dumbe Embassadors, Loues chiefe combatants
tell (softly whispring in each others hart)
Her of humble seruice; him of acceptance;
his craued loue, hers wisht they nere might part,
Much talk they had w^t tongues, more w^t their eyes,
But (oh) most with their harts, where true loue lies.

Now were they come whereas the good old Lady
might boldly welcome her inuited guest,
Where after little talke, (Hunters are hungry)
they all sat downe vnto a soone-made feast,
The Louers fed on glaunces of their eyes,
Tis heauenly food when both do simpathize.

At last, the Lady of the house espied
the intercourse of those bright Messengers,
Who inwardly reioycing, as fast plied
hers on her daughter, fittest Harbengers,
To bid her keepe the fairest and the best
Place in her hart, to entertaine this guest.

Word back againe was sent by her faire light,
how that was done already; and replied,
The Land-lord o're his Tennant hath such might,
that he to enter in is nere denied.
I, in a little corner of my hart
Doe liue, (quoth she) he hath the greatest part.

_Diego_ wisht thys supper nere would end,
(and yet he long'd to be in priuate place,
To ruminate vpon his fairest friend,
and to recount the beauties of her face)
So wisht _Gyneura_, were neuer such two,
That lou'd so deerely as these Louers doe.

The gloomy Curtaines of the tongue-lesse night,
were drawne so close as day could not be seene,
Now leaden-thoughted _Morpheus_ dyms each sight,
now, murder, rapes, and robberies begin:
Nature crau'd rest, but restlesse Loue would none,
_Diego_, Loues young prentice, thus gan mone.

Oh heauens, what new-founde griefes possesse my mind,
what rare impassionated fits be these?
Cold-burning Feuers in my hart I find,
whose opposite effects worke mee no ease,
Then loue assailes the hart with hotest fight,
VVhen beauty makes her conqust at first sight.

I little dreamed of thys strange euent,
(this harts-inthraller, mindes-disturbing Loue,
VVhen with my Huntsmen to the woods I went,
Oh neere till now did I his greatnes proue,
Whose first impression in the Louers hart,
Till then nere tainted, bringeth deepest smart.

Thus lay _Diego_ tossing in his bed,
bound to the will of all commaunding beauty,
Whom angry _Cupid_ now in tryumph led,
expecting from his slaue all seruile duty,
Hee might haue freed his prysoner so dismaid,
For sighes and grones had double ransome paide.

In like extreames, (Loue loues extremity)
did faire _Gyneura_ passe the long-thought night,
Shee raild against fell _Cupids_ crueltie,
that so would tyrannize o're a Maydens spright.
There needes no blowes, quoth she, when foes doe yield,
Oh cease, take thou the honor of the field.

The valiant Greekes (faire Ilyons fatall Foes)
their tedious ten yeres siedge for Spartaes Queen
Nere thought so long; (yet long it was) as those
loue-scorcht enamored (so restles) now ween
This night to be; A night if spent in care,
Seemes longer then a thousand pleasant are.

Thus lay they sleeplesse, thoughtfull, euer thinking
on sluggish humor of expected Morne,
They thought that Louers eyes were neuer winking
nor sleepe they e're in whom Loues newly borne.
Hee vow'd, when day was come, to woo his deere,
Shee swore such wooing she would gladly heare.

At last, the guyder of the firie Coach,
drying his locks wet in _Eurotas_ floud,
Gan resalute the world with bright approch,
angry he seem'd, for all his face was bloud:
_Auroraes_ hast had made him looke so red,
For loath he was to leaue faire _Thetis_ bed.

Scarce were his horses put in readines,
and he himselfe full mounted on his seate,
VVhen _Dom Diego_ full of heauines,
abroade did walke, his night talke to repeate
Some two howres spent, he in againe retires,
And sees his Mistres, whom he now admires.

Whereat inflam'd, (loue brookes no base delay,
whose fruite is danger, whose reward is paine)
With fine-fil'd termes he giues her the good day,
and blushing, she returnes it him againe.
_Endimeons_ blush her beauty did eclypse,
His causd by _Cynthiaes_, hers _Adonis_ lyps.

Boldly encourag'd by her milde aspect,
he told her that which Louers vse to tell,
How he did liue by her faire eyes reflect,
and how his hart in midst of hers did dwell.
Much eloquence he vsd, twas needles done,
To win that hart which was already won.

Ne're did the dungeon thiefe condemn'd to dye
with greater pleasure heare his pardon read,
Then did _Gyneura_ heare his Oratorie,
(of force sufficient to reuiue the dead)
Shee needes must yield; for sure he had the Art,
VVith amorous heate to fixe _Dianaes_ hart.

These Louers (thus in this both-pleasing parly)
were interrupted by _Geneuraes_ Mother
VVho newly vp, (age seldome ryseth early)
gan straight salute her guest, so did he her,
Some termes of kindnes mutually past,
Shee friendly leades him in, to breake his fast.

VVhich done, (as all good manners did require)
hee thankt his Hostis for her curtesie,
And now at length went home for to retire,
where hee was looked for so earnestly,
The Lady crau'd if ere hee came that way,
To see her house, and there to make some stay.

Then heauily, and with a dying eye,
(ioylesse) hee takes his leaue of his faire Loue,
VVho for to fauour him, full graciously,
with louing count'nance gaue to him her Gloue.
Keepe this (quoth shee) till better fortune fall,
My Gloue, my Loue, my hand, my hart, and all.

At this large offer, bashfull modestie,
with pure Vermilion stain'd her all faire face,
So lookt _Calystone_ at her great bellie,
when chast _Ilythia_ spi'd her in such case;
Let Louers iudge how grieuous tis to part,
From two, twixt whom, there lyueth but one hart.

Nowe is hee gone, who after little travell
attain'd his house (not pleasing thought desired)
At whose late absence each one much did maruell,
but (come) at his sad lookes they more admired,
Great _Cupids_ power, such sadnes in him bred,
VVho (erst) all louing harts in tryumph led.

One month (consum'd in pensiuenes) expir'd;
to recreate and reuiue his tyred spright,
Hee now on hunting goes, which hee desir'd,
not for the (once well-pleasing) sports delight;
But for he might some fit occasion finde,
To see his Loue, on whom was all his minde.

Where being come (suppose his sports prou'd bad)
_Gyneura_ gaue him welcome from her hart,
The Sea-tost Lord of _Ithica_ ne're had,
after his twentie yeares turmoile and smart,
More ioyfull welcome by his constant wife
Then had _Diego_ from his loue, his lyfe.

Two dayes he stay'd, whence he would ne're depart
but custome wil'd that he should now returne,
Yet though he went he left with her his hart,
which for their parting heauily gan mourne,
But for worse newes had it poore hart to greeue,
In that _Gyneura_ would so soone beleeue.

For sooner was hee not departed thence
but straight there comes a Riuall of his Loue,
VVho vnder true fidellities pretence
wrought wondrous hard _Diego_ to remoue,
Nor could at first his oaths or vowes preuaile,
To make _Gyneuraes_ loue one whit to faile.

For yet they lyu'd fast bound in Fancies chaines,
stryuing to passe each other in pure loue,
But (as there's nothing that for aye remaines
without some change.) so do these Louers proue,
That hottest loue hath soon'st the cold'st disdaine,
And greatest pleasures, haue their greatest paine.

For now no longer could shee so perseuer,
shee turnes to deadly hate her former kindnes,
Which still had lasted; but that Nature euer
strikes into womens eyes such dim-sight blindnes,
And such obdurate hardnes in their harts,
They see, nor knowe, not truest loues desarts.

_Gyneura_ this confirmes against her Louer,
whom now (all guiltlesse) she condemnes to die,
That in his deede or thought did nere offend her,
vnlesse by louing her so wondrous deerelie.
Such Loue, such hate, such lyking, such disdains,
Was neuer knowne in one hart to remaine.

Thus twas; _Diego_ had an enemie,
(immortall vertue euer lincked is,
With that pale leane-fac'd meager-hewed enuie)
who secretly (so falsely) tells his Mis.
How shee was mockt; _Diego_ lou'd another,
And storm'd & rag'd what madnes so should moue her.

To dote on him that else where sets his Loue,
hee makes you thinke (quoth he) what ere he list,
That this is true, you easily may proue
for still he weares her fauour on his fist,
A Hawke it is; which shee (so stands the Mart)
Giues him, he you faire words, but her his hart.

VVith this incenst, (that sex will soone beleeue)
soonest when enuies broode to them display it,
I'st true (quoth shee) for true loue doth he giue,
such smooth-fac'd flattry, doth he thus repay it?
Shee neuer scan'd, the truth of this her griefe,
Loue in such cases, is of quicke beliefe.

Her loue to him was neuer halfe so great,
(though once shee lou'd him) as is now her hate,
This _Momus_ breath (like bellowes) to her heate,
did kindle firie coales of hote debate.
Hee plyes her; and exasperates his spight,
And sweares, and vowes, hee tells her but the right.

Shee (like a franticke Froe of _Thessaly_
madded with _Bacchus_ brayne-distempring liquor)
Runs here, and there, exclayming furiously
with hideous, vncouth mind-affrighting terror.
Swearing reuenge on false _Diegoes_ head,
VVhose lying lookes in her such madnes bred.

VVherewith shee inuocates great _Nemesis_,
and begs the power of her deitie,
Shee tells her case, to Iustice-doing _Themis_,
and shewes how shee is wronged mightily.
Shee leaues no power vnsought for, or vnpraide,
That vse to helpe distressed with their aide.

VVronged _Diego_ (little this suspecting)
now thought it time to see his deerest faire,
And (other matters of import neglecting,
hee presently to her makes his repaire.
VVhere being come, such welcome he did finde,
As at the first did much disturbe his minde.

For faire _Gyneura_ would not now be seene,
she sent him word she scorn'd his fauning flattrie,
And much did greeue that shee so fond had beene,
to yield her hart to such deceitfull battrie:
Bid him (quoth shee) goe flatter where he list,
I like not I, that fauour on his fist.

Such hap it was, _Diego_ then had brought
his Hawke; (the author of this fell debate)
Which well confirm'd her euer doubtfull thought,
that nowe shee was resolu'd on deadly hate,
Bid him (quoth she) depart hence from my sight,
His loath-some presence brings me irksome spight.

Twas hard; that he whose loue was neuer tainted
whose sincere faith was kept inuiolate,
Nay, in whose face all truest loue was painted,
should for his spotlesse truth be paid with hate,
Hee stone-astonied, like a Deare at gaze,
Admir'd these speeches in a wondrous maze.

At last hee crau'd this fauour he might haue,
that shee her selfe would heare what he could say,
So _Neptunes_ Towne (quoth shee) such lycense gaue
to smooth-fac'd _Synon_ (_Ilions_ lost decay)
So _Syrens_ sing vntill they haue their will,
Some poore mistrustlesse Passenger to kill.

Shee would not heare him speake (oh cruell shee)
that causelesse this would kill him with disdaine,
Hee sweares he's guiltlesse, vowes innocencie,
& in such vowes, tears down his cheeks did raine,
Those cheeks which staine the blushing of ye morne
_Gyneura_ now most hatefully doth scorne.

Tis strange that Maides should ere be so abused,
to credit each malicious-tongued slaue,
And to condemne a man (if once accused)
before or proofe, or tryall, hee may haue.
Too many such there be; wo's mee therefore,
Such light credulitie, I must deplore.

When sighes, salt tears, & vowes could do no good,
nor sighes, nor teares, nor vowes could pierce her hart,
In which, disdaine triumphant victor stood
holding in eyther hand a sable dart,
VVherewith he strikes true loue, & stainlesse truth,
Condemning them vnto eternall ruth.

Home goes _Diego_ with a cheereless face,
whose steps were led by leaden-footed griefe,
VVho neuer goes but with a dead-slowe pace,
vntill hee finde some ease, or some reliefe;
Twould melt a marble hart to see that man,
(Earst, fresh as a new-blowne Rose) so ashie wan.

VVhere being come, he straight for four daies space,
locks him in his chamber, and there did poure
Huge shewers of christall rayne adowne his face,
(for sure he lou'd her deerely at this howre)
All ouerwhelm'd in waues of sea-salt teares,
Some fatall shipwrack of his life he feares.

Wherewith he calls for paper, pen, and ynck,
and for his Hawke, which presently he kild,
Die thou (quoth he) so shall my loue nere thinke,
that for thy sake to any else I yield.
And plucking of her head, straight way hee writes,
VVho (sending it as token) thus indites.

Loe heere (thou cruell faire) that gracious fauour,
the Ensigne (as thou saist) of my vntruth,
Behold in what high-priz'd esteeme I haue her
that gaue me it, the cause of all my ruth:
Looke as this Hawke, faire Loue, so is my hart,
Mangled and torne; cause thou so cruell art.

I sweare to thee by all the rites of loue,
by heauens faire head, by earth, & black-fac'd hel,
I nere meant other loue but thine to proue,
nor in my hart that any else should dwell;
Let this suffize, my ioy, my deere, my chiefe,
My griefes are too too long, though letter briefe.

Twas time to ende, for floods gusht out amaine,
out came the springtide of his brinish teares,
VVhich whatsoere hee writ blot out againe
all blubred so to send it scarce hee dares:
And yet hee did; goe thou (quoth hee) vnto her,
And for thy maister, treate, sollicite, woo her.

And pray thee (if thy Fortune be so good
as to be viewd by sunshine of her eyes)
Bid her take heede in spilling guiltlesse blood,
tell her there's danger in such cruelties:
VVith this, hee gaue it to the messenger,
Who (making speed) in short time brought it her.

Shee, when shee heard from whom the Letter came,
returnes it backe againe, and straight replied,
My friend (quoth she) hadst thou not told his name
perhaps thy Letter, had not beene denied:
VVhereat shee paus'd; but yet ile see (quoth shee)
With what perswading termes, he flatters mee.

Twas quickly read; (God knowes it was but short)
griefe would not let the wryter tedious be,
Nor would it suffer him fit words to sort,
but pens it (chaos-like) confusedly.
Yet had it passion to haue turn'd hard stones
To liquid moisture, if they heard his moanes.

But cruell shee, more hard then any flint,
worse then a Tygresse of Hyrcania,
Would not be mou'd, nor could his lines take print
in her hard hart, so cruell was _Gyneura_.
Shee which once lou'd him deerly, (too too well)
Now hates him more then any tongue can tell.

Oh Nature, chiefest Mother of vs all,
why did you giue such apt-beleeuing harts
To women-kind, that thus poore men inthrall,
and will not dulie waie true loues desarts?
O had their harts been like vnto their face,
They sure had been of some celestiall race.

Shee pittiles, sends backe to _Dom Diego_,
and sayes, his words cannot inchant her hart,
_Vlisses_-like, shee will not heare _Calypso_,
nor lend her eares to such intising arte.
Bid him (quoth she) fr[=o] henceforth cease to write,
Tell him his Letters agrauate my spight.

Full heauie newes it was to stainelesse loue,
to him that had enshrin'd her in his thought,
And in his hart had honor'd her aboue
the world; to wh[=o] all else saue her seem'd nought.
Nay, vnto him, whose person, wit, and faire,
Might surely with the best make iust compare.

But (blinded as shee was) shee steemes him not,
hate and disdaine doe neuer brooke respect,
Shee did not knowe that beauties foulest blot
consisted in true-louing harts neglect.
No, she (more stubborne th[=e] the North-east wind)
VVould not admit such knowledge in her mind.

Let those who guiltleslie haue felt disdaine,
whose faithfull loue hath beene repaid with hate,
Giue rightfull iudgement of _Diegoes_ paine
who bought his fauours at the highest rate.
This newes such pleasure in his soule had bred,
As hath the thiefe that heares his iudgement read.

After some time, hee writes againe vnto her,
hee could not thinke shee would perseuer so,
But when hee sawe her aunswere like the other
hee then surceas'd to send her any moe.
But did resolue to seeke some vncouth place,
VVhere he might (vnfound out) bewaile his case.

Thinking indeede shee by his absence might
at length intenerate her flintfull hart,
And metamorphize her conceaued spight
into true loue regardaunt of his smart;
Hee seekes all meanes (poore Louer) how to gaine
His rigorous Lady from such fell disdaine.

At last, hee calls to mind the Pyren Mountaines,
those far-fam'd, woody hills of wealthy Spaine,
Which for wild Beasts, & siluer visag'd Fountaines,
hath got the praise of all that there remaine;
Hether postes _Dom Diego_ fraught with griefe,
Hoping those woods would yield him some reliefe.

VVhere, being come, all Pilgrim-like attir'd,
hee pryes about to see if hee could finde,
Some house-like Caue, for rest hee much desir'd,
his body now was wearie, as his minde.
O Gods (quoth hee) if youth finde such distresse,
VVhat hope haue I, of future happines.

VVith that hee sees a Rocke made like a Cabin
all tapistred with Natures mossie greene,
VVrought in a frizled guise, as it had been
made for _Napæa_, Mountaines chiefest Queene,
At mouth of which grew Cedars, Pines, & Firs,
And at the top grew Maple, Yough, and Poplers.

So, heere (quoth hee) ile rest my wearied bodie
in thee (delightfull place of Natures building)
VVill I erect a griefe-fram'd Monasterie,
where night & day my prayers ile ne're cease yielding,
To thee my deere; (no other Saint I haue)
Oh lend thine eares, to him that his hart gaue.

Two dayes were spent in this so pleasant seate,
(this stone-built Pallace of the King content)
Before _Diego_ tasted any meate,
or once did drinke, more then his eyes had lent.
O irresisted force of purest Loue,
Whom paines, thirst, hunger, can no whit remoue.

Sometimes, when as he scans her crueltie,
& feeles his paines (like _Hydreas_ head) increasing,
Hee wisht the Scithian _Anthropophagie_
did haunt these woods that liue by mans flesh eating;
Or else the Thracian _Bessi_, so renound,
For cruell murdring, whom in woods they found.

That so the _Gordyon_ knot of his paine
indissoluble e'rewhiles he did lyue,
Might be vntide when as his hart were slaine,
when he (ô restfull time) shold cease to grieue;
But yet the Sisters kept his vitall breath,
They would not let him dye so base a death.

Some other times when as he waies her beautie,
her _Venus_-stayning face so wondrous faire,
Hee then doth thinke to waile tis but his dutie
sith caus'd by her that is without compaire,
And in this moode vnto high _Ioue_ hee prayes,
And praying so, hee thus vnto him sayes.

Great Gouernour of (wheele-resembling) Heauen,
commaund thy vnder Princes to mayntaine,
Those heau[=e]ly parts which to my loue th'aue giuen,
ô let her ne're feele death, or deaths fell paine.
And first vpon thy Sister lay thy mace,
Bid her maintayne my Loues maiestick grace.

Inioyne the strange-borne mother-lesse _Mynerua_,
and her to whom the fomie Sea was Mother,
Still to vphold their giftes in my _Gyneura_:
let wit and beautie lyue vnited with her;
With sweete mouth'd _Pytho_ I may not suspence,
Great Goddesse; still increase her eloquence.

Thou musicall _Apollo_ gau'st her hand,
and thou her feete (great Sun-Gods deerest loue)
To such your rare-knowne gyfts all gracious stand;
and now at last this doe I craue great _Ioue_,
That when they dye (perhaps they dye aboue)
Thou wilt bequeath these gyfts vnto my Loue.

On euery neighbour Tree, on euery stone
(hee durst not far range from his secure Caue)
VVould he cut out the cause of all his moane,
and curiouslie with greatest skill ingraue:
There needed no _Leontius_, his Art,
Griefe carueth deepest, if it come from th'hart.

VVhen some stone would not impression take
hee straight compares it to his Mistris hart,
But stay, (quoth he) my working teares shall make
thee penetrable with the least skil'd art.
Oh had my teares such force to pierce her mind,
These sorrowes I should loose, and new ioyes find.

Thou euer-memorable stone (quoth hee)
tell those whom fate or fortune heere shall lead,
How deerely I haue lou'd the cruel'st shee
that euer Nature or the world hath bred.
Tell them her hate, and her disdaine was causelesse,
Oh, leaue not out to tell how I was guiltlesse.

Whereat, the very stone would seeme to weepe,
whose wrinkled face wold be besmeard with tears
O man what ere thou be, thy sorrowes keepe
vnto thy selfe, quoth hee; ile heare no cares.
Tell them that care not, tell _Gyneura_ of thee,
We stones are ruthfull, & thy plaints haue pierc'd mee.

VVith this, hee seekes a russet-coated Tree,
& straight disclothes him of his long-worne weed
And whilest hee thus disroabes him busilie,
hee felt his halfe-dead hart a fresh to bleed.
Greeuing that hee should vse such crueltie,
To turne him naked to his foe, windes furie.

But now vncas'ed, hee gins to carue his cares,
his passions, his constant-lyuing Loue,
When (loe) there gushes out cleere sap like teares
which to get forth from pryson mainly stroue,
Since pitty dwells (quoth hee) in trees and stone,
Them will I loue; _Gyneura_, thou hast none.

Yet needs I must confesse thou once didst loue mee,
thy loue was hotter then _Nimphæum_ hill,
But now wh[=e] time affords me, means to proue thee,
thy loue then _Caucase_ is more cold and chill,
And in thy cold, like Aethiopyan hue,
Thou art not to be chang'd from false to true.

O looke (faire Loue) as in the springing Plant
one branch intwines and growes within another,
So growe my griefes; which makes my hart to pant
when thicke-fetcht sighes my vitall breath doth smother,
I spoild my cruelty am adiudg'd to death,
Thus all alone to yield my lyuing breath.

Thou hast the fayrest face that e're was seene,
but in thy breast (that Alablaster Rocke)
Thou hast a fouler hart; disdaine hath beene
accounted blacker then the Chimnies stocke.
O purifie thy soule my dearest Loue,
Dislodge thy hate, and thy disdaine remoue.

But all in vaine I speake vnto the wind,
then should they carry these my plaints vnto her,
Mee thinks thou still shouldst beare a gentle mind,
(deere-louing _Zephire_) pray, intreate, & woo her;
Tell her twere pittie I should dye alone,
Here in these woods wher non can heare me mone.

But tis no matter, shee is pittylesse
like the Scycilian stone that more tis beate
Doth waxe the harder; stones are not so ruthlesse,
which smallest drops doe pierce though nere so great:
If Seas of teares would weare into her hart,
I had ere this beene eased of my smart.

Thus in these speeches would _Diego_ sit
bathing his siluer cheekes with trickling teares,
VVhich (often running downe) at last found fit
channells to send them to their standing meares,
VVho at his feete (before his feete there stood
A poole of teares) receau'd the smaller flood.

Ne're had the world a truer louing hart,
_Abydos_ cease to speake of constant loue,
Por sure (thou Sygnior _Dom Diego_) art
the onely man that e're hates force did proue;
Thy changelesse loue hath close inrol'd thy name,
In steele-leau'd booke of euer-lyuing fame.

That wide-mouth'd time wc swallows good desarts
shall shut his iawes, & ne're deuoure thy name,
Thou shalt be crown'd with bayes by louing harts,
and dwell in Temple of eternall Fame;
There, is a sacred place reseru'd for thee,
There, thou shalt liue with perpetuitie.

So long liu'd poore _Diego_ in this case
that at the length hee waxed somwhat bold,
To search the woods where hee might safely chase,
(necessitie, thy force cannot be told)
The fearefull Hare, the Connie, and the Kid,
Time made him knowe the places where they bid.

This young-year'd Hermit, one day mong the rest
as hee was busilie prouiding meate,
VVhich was with Natures cunning almost drest,
dri'd with the Sunne new readie to be eate,
Inrag'd vpon a suddaine throwes away
His hard-got foode; and thus began to say.

O cruell starres, Step-mothers of my good,
& you, you ruthlesse Fates what meane you thus,
So greedely to thirst for my harts blood,
why ioy you so in vnuniting vs?
Great powres infuse some pitty in her hart
That thus hath causelesse caus'd in me this smart.

I ne're was wont to vse such Cookerie,
to drudge & toile wh[=e] pesants take their pleasure,
My noble birth scornes base-borne slauerie,
this easelesse lyfe hath neither end nor measure;
Thou great _Sosipolis_ looke vpon my state,
Be of these nere-hard griefes compassionate.

I feele my long-thought life begin to melt
as doth the snowe gainst midday heate of Sunne,
(Faire loue) thy rigour I haue too much felt,
oh, at the last with crueltie haue done,
If teares thy stonie hart could mollifie,
My brinish springs should floe eternallie.

Sweet loue, behold those pale cheekes washt in woe
that so my teares may as a mirror be,
Thine owne faire shaddowe liuely for to shoe,
and portraite forth thy Angel-hued beautie.
_Narcissus_-lyke then shouldst thou my face kisse,
More honny sweete, then _Venus_ gaue _Adonis_.

Feare not _Gyneura_, faire _Narcissus_ hap;
thy necke, thy breast, thy hand is Lilly-white,
They all are Lillies tane from _Floraes_ lap;
ne're be thou chang'd vnlesse to loue from spite,
Oh that thou wer't but then transformed so,
My Sommers blisse, would change my winters woe.

If thou did'st knowe in what a loathsome place,
I spend my dayes sad and disconsolate,
VVhat foggie Stigian mists hang o re my face,
thou would'st exile this thy conceaued hate;
This Hemisphere is darke, for _Sol_ him shroudes,
My sighes doe so conglomerate the cloudes.

I tolde thee, I, (thou cruell too seuere)
when hate first gan to rise how I was guiltlesse,
Thine eares were deaffe, ye wouldst not harken ere
thy hart was hardned, rockie, pittilesse.
Oh had mine eyes been blind wh[=e] first they view'd thee,
Would God I had been tonglesse wh[=e] I sew'd thee.

But thou wast then as readie to receaue
as I to craue; ô great inconstancie,
O twas that fatall houre did so bereaue
my blisfull soule of all tranquillitie:
Thou then didst burne in loue, now froz'd in hate,
Yet pittie mee, sweete mercy ne're comes late.

Looke as the crazen tops of armelesse Trees
or latest down-fall of some aged building,
Doe tell thee of the North-windes boistrous furies,
and how that _Eolus_ lately hath beene stirring;
So in my thin-cheekt face thou well maist see,
The furious storme of thy black crueltie.

But thou inexorable art, ne're to be wone,
though Lyons, Bears, & Tigers haue been tam'd,
Thy wood borne rigour neuer will be done,
which thinks for this thou euer shalt be fam'd;
True, so thou shalt, but fam'd in infamie,
Is worse then lyuing in obscuritie.

If thou didst knowe howe greeuous tis to me
to lyue in this vnhabited aboade,
Where none (but sorrowe) keepes me companie,
I know thou wouldst thy harts hate then vnload,
Oh, I did ne're deserue this miserie,
For to denie the truth were heresie.

I tell thee (Loue) when secret-tongued night
puts on her mistie sable-coloured vayle,
My wrangling woes, within them selues do fight,
they murder hope, which makes their Captaine wayle,
And wailing so, can neuer take his rest,
That keepes such vnrul'd Souldiers in his brest.

So when the cleere nights-faults-disclosing day
peepes forth her purple head, from out the East,
These woes (my Souldiers) crie out for their pay,
(and if deni'd) they stab mee, with vnrest;
My teares are pay, but all my teares are dride
Therefore I must their fatall blowes abide.

In these laments did _Dom Diego_ liue
long time; till at the last by pourefull fate,
A wandring Huntsman ignorance did driue
vnto the place whence hee return'd but late;
Who viewing well the print of humaine steps
Directly followed them, and for ioy leaps.

At last hee came vnto _Diegoes_ Caue
in which he sawe a sauadge man (hee thought)
Who much did looke like the _Danubyan_ slaue,
such deep-worn furrows in his face were wrought,
_Diego_ much abashed at this sight
Came running forth, him in his armes to plight.

For glad hee was (God knowes) to see a man,
who (wretch) in two yeres space did ne're see any
Such gladnes, ioy, such mirth, such triumph can
not be set downe, suppose them to be many.
But see, long had they not confer'd together,
When (happie time) each one did know the other.

VVith that _Diego_ shewes him all his loue,
his pennance, her first loue, & now her hate,
But hee requested him hence to remoue,
and at his house the rest hee should dilate,
Which hee deni'd, onely hee now doth write
By this his friend, vnto his harts delight.

Deere Loue (quoth he) when shall I home returne,
wh[=e] will the coales of hate be quencht with loue,
VVhich now in raging flames my hart do burne,
oh, when wilt thou this thy disdaine remoue;
Aske of this bearer, be inquisitiue,
And hee will tell thee in what case I liue.

Inquire of her, whose Hawke hath caus'd this woe,
if for that fauour euer I did loue her,
And shee will curse mee that did vse her so,
and shee will tell thee how I lou'd another;
Twas thee _Gyneura_, twas thy fairest selfe,
I hel'd thee as a Pearle, her drossie pelfe.

Then, when thou hast found out the naked truth,
thinke of thy _Diego_, and his hard hap,
Let it procure in thee some mouing ruth,
that thus hast causelesse cast him from thy lap:
Fare-well my deere, I hope this shall suffize,
To ad a period to thy cruelties.

The Messenger to spurre forth her desires,
and hasten her vnto his well-lou'd friend,
Tells her, how hee lyes languishing in fires
of burning griefes, which neuer will haue end:
Bids her to flye to him with wings of zeale,
And thus _Diegoes_ paines hee doth reueale.

Oh Adamantick-minded Mayde (quoth hee)
why linger you in this ambiguous thought,
Open thine eyes, no longer blinded bee,
those wounding lookes, thy Louer, deere hath bought.
Vnbolt thy harts strong gate of hardest steele,
O let him nowe the warmth of pittie feele.

Oh let him now the warmth of pittie feele,
that long hath knockt cold-staruen at thy dore;
Wanting loues foode hee here & there doth reele
lyke to a storme-tost Ship that's far from shore.
Feede him with loue that long hath fed on cares,
Be Anchor to his soule that swims in teares.

_Gyneura_, let him harbour in thy hart
rig and amend his trouble-beaten face,
O calme thy hate, whose winds haue rais'd his smart
see him not perrish in this wofull case.
And for in Sea-salt teares hee long hath liu'd,
Let him by thy fresh water be relieu'd.

Oh, shall I tell thee how I found him there,
his house wherein hee liu'd (if lyue hee did,
Or rather spend his time in dying feare)
was built within the ground, all darksom hid.
From _Phoebus_ light, so vgly, hell-lyke Caue,
In all the world againe you cannot haue.

All made of rug'd hard-fauour'd stones,
whose churlish lookes afford the eye no pleasure,
In whose concauity winds breath'd horce grones,
to which sad musicke Sorrow daunc'd a measure.
O'regrowne it was with mighty shadefull Trees,
VVhere poore _Diego_ Sun nor Moone nere sees.

To this black place repaired euery morne,
The fayre _Oreades_ pitty-moued gerles,
Bringing the poore _Diego_ so forlorne,
Mosse to dry vp his teares, those liquid pearles:
Full loath they were to loose such christall springs,
Therfore this Spunge-like Mosse each of th[=e] brings.

Here dry (say they) thou loue-forsaken man,
those glassy Conduits, which do neuer cease
On this soft-feeling weede; and if you can,
we all intreate, your griefes you would appease,
Else wilt thou make vs pine in griefe-full woe,
That nere knewe care, or loue, or friend, or foe.

Straight (like a shooting Commet in the ayre)
away depart these sorrow-peirced maydes,
Leauing _Diego_ in a deepe dispaire,
who now, his fortune, now his fate vp-braides.
O heauens (quoth he) how happy are these trees,
That know not loue, nor feele his miseries.

Melts not thy hart (_Gyneura_) at his cares?
are not thy bright transparent eyes yet blinde
VVith monstrous diluge of o'reflowing teares?
remaines there yet disdaines within thy mind?
Disgorge thy hate, O hate him not that loues thee,
Maids are more milde th[=e] men, yet pitty moues me.

Breake, breake in peeces that delicious chest,
whiter then snow on Hyperboreall hyll,
Chase out disdaine, depriue him of his rest,
murder and mangle him that rules thy will.
Be it nere sayd that faire _Gyneuraes_ beauty,
Was ouer-peiz'd by causelesse cruelty.

Cruell to him that merrits curtesie,
loathed of thee that doth deserue all loue,
Basely reiected, scorn'd most churlishly,
that honors thee aboue the Saints aboue.
True loue is pricelesse, rare, and therefore deere,
VVe feast not royall Kings with homely cheere.

Too long it were to tell thee all his merits,
for in delay consists his long-lookt death,
Post-hast of thine must now reuiue his spirits,
or shortly he will gaspe his latest breath;
Speake faire _Gyneura_, speake as I desire,
Or let thy vaine-breath'd speeches back retyre.

Looke, as a man late taken from a trance,
standes gazing heere and there in sencelesse wise,
Not able of himselfe his head t'aduance,
but standeth like a stone in death-like guise,
So lookt _Gyneura_, hanging downe her head,
Shaming that folly her so much had led.

Repentant sorrow would not let her speake,
the burning flames of griefe did dry her teares,
Yet at the last, words out of prison breake,
that long'd to vtter her harts inward cares:
And stealingly there glides with heauy pace
A Riuolet of Pearle along her face.

O cease (quoth she) to wound me any more,
with oft repeating of my cruelties,
Thou of thy teares (kind man) hast shed great store,
when I (vnkinder mayde) scarce wet mine eyes.
O let me now bewaile him once for all,
Twas none but I that causd his causelesse thrall.

Eternall _Ioue_, rayne showers of vengeance on me,
plague me for this blacke deed of wrongful hate,
Be blind mine eyes, they shall not looke vpon thee
_Diego_, till thou be compassionate:
And when thou doost forgiue what I haue done,
Then shall they shine like shortest-shaded sunne.