Pour out your bleffing on us plenteously,
And happy influence upon us rain,
That we may rise a large pofterity,

Which from the earth, which they may long poffefs

With lafting happiness,

Up to your haughty palaces may mount,
And for the guerdon of their glorious merit
May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,
Of bleffed faints for to increase the count:
So let us reft, fweet Love! in hope of this

And ccafe till then our timely joys to fing, The woods no more us anfwer, nor our eccho ring.

SONG made in lieu of many ornaments

With which my love fhould duly have been deckt,
Which cutting off through hafly accidents,
Ye would not stay your due time to expect,
But promis'd both to recompence,

But unto her a goodly ornament,

And for fhort time an endless monument.

In youth, before I wexed old,

The blinded boy, Venus' baby,
For want of cunning made me bold,
In bitter hive to grope for honey;
But when he faw me ftung and cry,
He took wing, and away did fly,

As Diana hunted on a day,

She chanc'd to come where Cupid lay,
His quiver by his head;

One of his Shafts she stole away,
And one of her's did close convey
Into the other's ftead:

With that Love wounded my love's heart,
But Diane beasts with Cupid's dart.

I SAW in fecret to my dame
How little Cupid humbly came,
And faid to her, All hail, my Mother;
But when he faw me laugh, for fhame
His face with bafhful blood did flame,
Not knowing Venus from the other.
Then next blush, Cupid, quoth I,
For many have err'd in this beauty.

UPON a day, as Love lay fweetly flumbring
All in his mother's lap,

A gentle bee, with his loud trumpet murm'ring,

About him flew by hap;

Whereof when he was wakened with the noise, And faw the beast so small,

Think now (quoth fhe) my fon, how great the
Of those whom thou dooft wound;
Full many thou haft pricked to the heart,

voice,

That weakens men withall?

Therefore henceforth fome pity take, When thou doft fpoil of lovers make.

SONNET. I.

HAPPY, ye Leaves! whenas thofe lilly hands,
Which hold my life in their dead-doing might,
Shall handle you, and hold in Love's foft bands,
Like captives trembling at the victor's fight.
And happy Lines! on which with ftarry light
Those lamping eyes will deign fometimes to look,
And read the forrows of my dying fpright,
Written with tears in heart's close bleeding book.
And happy Rimes! bath'd in the facred brook
Of Helicon, whence the derived is,
When ye behold that angel's bleffed look,
My foul's long-lacked food, my heaven's blifs,
Leaves, Lines, and Rimes, feek her to please alone,
Whom if ye please, I care for other none.

SONNET II.

UNQUIET thought, whom at the first I bred
Of th' inward bale of my love pined-heart,
And fithence have with fighs and forrow fed,
Till greater than my womb thou woxen art,
Break forth at length out of the inner part,
In which thou lurkeft like to vipers' brood,
And feek fome fuccour, both to ease my smart,
And alfo to fuftain thy felf with food:
But if in prefence of that fairest proud
Thou chance to come, fall lowly at her feet,
And with meek humblefs and afflicted mood
Pardon for thee, and grace for me, entreat;
Which if the grant, then live, and my love cherish;
If not, die foon, and I with thee will perish.

SONNET III.

THE fovereign beauty which I do admire,
Witness the world how worthy to be praif'd,
The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire
In my frail fpirit, by her from baseness raif'd,
That being now with her huge brightnefs daz'd,
Bafe thing I can no more endure to view,
But looking fill on her, I ftand amaz'd

At wondrous fight of so celeftial hue.
So when my tongue would fpeak her praises due,
It stopped is with thought's aftonishment,
And when my pen would write her titles true,
It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment;
Yet in my heart I then both speak and write
The wonder that my wit cannot endite.

SONNET IV.

NEw year forth looking out of Janus' gate,
Doth feem to promife hope of new delight,
And bidding th' old adieu, his paffed date
Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright.
And calling forth out of fad Winter's night
Fresh Love, that long hath flept in cheerless bower,
Wills him awake, and foon about him dight
His wanton wings, and darts of deadly power:
For lufty Spring, now in his timely howre,
Is ready to come forth, him to receive,
And warns the Earth, with divers-colour'd flowre,
To deck herself, and her fair mantle weave;
Then you, fair Flowre! in whom fresh youth doth
reign,

Prepare your felf new love to entertain.

SONNET V.

RUDELY thou wrongest my dear heart's defire,
The thing in which I do moft in her admire,
In finding fault with her too portly pride:
Is of the world unworthy most envide;
For in thofe lofty locks is clofe implide
Scorn of bafe things and 'fdeign of foul dishoncur,
Threatning rafh eyes which gaze on her fe wide,
That loofely they ne dare to look upon her.
Such pride is praife, fuch portlinefs is honour,
That boldness innocence bears in her eyes,
And her fair countenance, like a goodly banner,
Spreads in defiance of all enemies.

Was never in this world ought worthy tride,
Without fome fparke of fuch felf-pleafing pride.

SONNET VI.

Be nought difmaid that her unmoved mind
Doth fill perfift in her rebellious pride;
Such love not like to lutts of bafer kind,
The harder won, the firmer will abide.
The dureful oak, whofe fap is not yet dride,
Is long e'er it conceive the kindling fire,
But when it once doth burn, it doth divide
Great heat, and make his flames to heaven afpire:
so hard it is to kindle new defire

n gentle breast that shall endure for ever;
Decp is the wound that dints the parts entire
With chafte effects that nought but death can
fever.

Then think not long in taking little pain

To knit the knot that ever fhall remain.

SONNET VII.

AIR eyes, the mirrour of my mazed heart,
What wondrous vertue is contain'd in you,

he which both life and death forth from you dart

to the object of your mighty view?

or when ye mildly look with lovely hue, hen is my foul with life and love infpir'd; ut when ye lowre, or look on me afkew, hen do I die, as one with lightning fir'd. ut fince that life is more than death defir'd, ook ever lovely, as becomes you beft; hat your bright beams of my weak eyes admir'd, fay kindle living fire within my breft. ach life fhould be the honour of your light, ich death the fad enfample of your might.

Refemble th' image of the goodly light.
Not to the fun, for they do fhine by night;
Nor to the moon, for they are changed never;
Nor to the ftars, for they have purer fight;
Nor to the fire, for they confume not ever;
Nor to the lightning, for they ftill prefever;
Nor to the diamond, for they are more tender;
Nor unto chryftal, for nought may them fever;
Nor unto glais, fuch baseness mought offend her:
Then to the Maker self they likeft be,
Whofe light doth lighten all that here we fee.

SONNET X.

UNRIGHTEOUS lord of Love! what law is this,
That me thou makeft thus tormented be,
The whiles the lordeth in licentious blifs
Of her free-will fcorning both thee and me?
See how the tyrannefs doth joy to fee

The huge maflacres which her eyes do make,
And humbled hearts brings captive unto thee,
That thou of them mayft mighty vengeance

take.

But her proud heart do thou a little shake,
And that high look, with which the doth control
All this world's pride, bow to a baser make,
And all her faults in thy black book enrol,
That I may laugh at her in equal fort

As the doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her
Sport.

SONNET XI.

DAILY when I do feek and fue for peace,
And hostages do offer for my truth,
She, cruel warriour, doth her felf addrefs
To battel, and the weary war renew'th;
Ne will be mov'd with reafon or with ruth
Το
grant fmall refpit to my restless toil,
But greedily her fell intent perfu’th,
Of my poor life, to make unpitied spoil.
Yet my poor life, all forrows to affoil,
I would her yield, her wrath to pacifie,
But then the feeks, with torment and turmoil,
To force me live, and will not let me die.
All pain hath end, and every war hath peace;
But mine no price nor prayer may furceale.

SONNET XII.

ONE day I fought with heart-thrilling eyes
To make a truce, and terms to entertain,
All fearless then of fo falfe enemies,
Which fought me to entrap in treafon's train:
So as I then difarmed did remain,
A wicked ambush, which lay hidden long
In the clofe covert of her guileful eyen,
Thence breaking forth, did thick about me throng.
Too feeble I t' abide the brunt fo strong,
Was forc'd to yield my felf into their hands,