Attends his Person with all dilligence
Whose hand's their hart; whose welfare is their wealth,
Whose safe Protection is their sure Defence,
For pure affection, not for hope of pence:
Such is the faithfull hart, such is the minde,
Of him that is to Vertue still inclinde.
The skilfull Scholler, and braue man at Armes,
First plies his Booke, last fights for Countries Peace;
Th'one feares Obliuion, th'other fresh Alarmes;
His paines nere ende, his trauailes neuer cease;
His with the Day, his with the Night increase:
He studies how to get eternall Fame;
The Souldier fights to win a glorious Name.
The Knight, the Squire, the Gentleman, the Clowne,
Are full of crosses and calamities;
Lest fickle Fortune should begin to frowne,
And turne their mirth to extreame miseries:
Nothing more certaine than incertainties;
Fortune is full of fresh varietie:
Constant in nothing but inconstancie.
The wealthie Merchant that doth crosse the Seas,
To _Denmarke_, _Poland_, _Spaine_, and _Barbarie;_
For all his ritches, liues not still at ease;
Sometimes he feares ship-spoyling Pyracie,
Another while deceipt and treacherie
Of his owne Factors in a forren Land;
Thus doth he still in dread and danger stand.
Well is he tearmd a Merchant-Venturer,
Since he doth venter lands, and goods, and all:
When he doth trauell for his Traffique far,
Little he knowes what fortune may befall,
Or rather what mis-fortune happen shall:
Sometimes he splits his Ship against a rocke;
Loosing his men, his goods, his wealth, his stocke.
And if he so escape with life away,
He counts himselfe a man most fortunate,
Because the waues their rigorous rage did stay,
(When being within their cruell powers of late,
The Seas did seeme to pittie his estate)
But yet he neuer can recouer health,
Because his ioy was drowned with his wealth.
The painfull Plough-swaine, and the Husband-man
Rise vp each morning by the breake of day,
Taking what toyle and drudging paines they can,
And all is for to get a little stay;
And yet they cannot put their care away:
When Night is come, their cares begin afresh,
Thinking vpon their Morrowes busines.
Thus euerie man is troubled with vnrest,
From rich to poore, from high to low degree:
Therefore I thinke that man is truly blest,
That neither cares for wealth nor pouertie,
But laughs at Fortune and her foolerie;
That giues rich Churles great store of golde and fee,
And lets poore Schollers liue in miserie.
O fading Branches of decaying Bayes
Who now will water your dry-wither'd Armes?
Or where is he that sung the louely Layes
Of simple Shepheards in their Countrey-Farmes?
Ah he is dead, the cause of all our harmes:
And with him dide my ioy and sweete delight;
And cleare to Clowdes, the Day is turnd to Night.
SYDNEY. The Syren of this latter Age;
SYDNEY. The Blasing-starre of England's glory;
SYDNEY. The Wonder of wise and sage;
SYDNEY. The Subiect of true Vertues story;
This Syren, Starre, this Wonder, and this Subiect;
In dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by Fortunes Obiect.
And thou my sweete _Amintas_ vertuous minde,
Should I forget thy Learning or thy Loue;
Well might I be accounted but vnkinde,
Whose pure affection I so oft did proue:
Might my poore Plaints hard stones to pitty moue;
His losse should be lamented of each Creature,
So great his Name, so gentle was his Nature.
But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium,
(The happy Hauen of eternall rest:)
And let me to my former matter come,
Prouing by Reason, Shepheard's life is best,
Because he harbours Vertue in his Brest;
And is content (the chiefest thing of all)
With any fortune that shall him befall.
He sits all Day lowd-piping on a Hill,
The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace,
His hart with ioy, his eares with Musique fill:
Anon a bleating Weather beares the Bace,
A Lambe the Treble; and to his disgrace
Another answers like a middle Meane:
Thus euery one to beare a Part are faine.
Like a great King he rules a little Land,
Still making Statutes, and ordayning Lawes;
Which if they breake, he beates them with his Wand:
He doth defend them from the greedy Iawes
Of rau'ning Woolues, and Lyons bloudy Pawes.
His Field, his Realme; his Subiects are his Sheepe;
Which he doth still in due obedience keepe.
First he ordaines by Act of Parlament,
(Holden by custome in each Countrey Towne),
That if a sheepe (with any bad intent)
Presume to breake the neighbour Hedges downe,
Or haunt strange Pastures that be not his owne;
He shall be pounded for his lustines,
Vntill his Master finde out some redres.
Also if any proue a Strageller
From his owne fellowes in a forraine field,
He shall be taken for a wanderer,
And forc'd himselfe immediatly to yeeld,
Or with a wyde-mouth'd Mastiue Curre be kild.
And if not claimd within a twelue-month's space,
He shall remaine with Land-lord of the place.
Or if one stray to feede far from the rest,
He shall be pincht by his swift pye-bald Curre;
If any by his fellowes be opprest,
The wronger (for he doth all wrong abhorre)
Shall be well bangd so long as he can sturre.
Because he did anoy his harmeles Brother,
That meant not harme to him nor any other.
And last of all, if any wanton Weather,
With briers and brambles teare his fleece in twaine,
He shall be forc'd t'abide cold frosty weather,
And powring showres of ratling stormes of raine,
Till his new fleece begins to grow againe:
And for his rashnes he is doom'd to goe
without a new Coate all the Winter throw.
Thus doth he keepe them, still in awfull feare,
And yet allowes them liberty inough;
So deare to him their welfare doth appeare,
That when their fleeces gin to waxen rough,
He combs and trims them with a Rampicke bough,
Washing them in the streames of siluer _Ladon_,
To cleanse their skinnes from all corruption.
Another while he wooes his Country Wench,
(With Chaplets crownd, and gaudy girlonds dight)
Whose burning Lust her modest eye doth quench,
Standing amazed at her heauenly sight,
(Beauty doth rauish Sense with sweet Delight)
Clearing _Arcadia_ with a smoothed Browe
When Sun-bright smiles melts flakes of driuen snowe.
Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day,
And when Night comes drawes homeward to his Coate,
Singing a Iigge or merry Roundelay;
(For who sings commonly so merry a Noate,
As he that cannot chop or change a groate)
And in the winter Nights (his chiefe desire)
He turns a Crabbe or Cracknell in the fire.
He leads his Wench a Country Horn-pipe Round,
About a May-pole on a Holy-day;
Kissing his louely Lasse (with Garlands Crownd)
With whoopping heigh-ho singing Care away;
Thus doth he passe the merry month of May:
And all th'yere after in delight and ioy,
(Scorning a King) he cares for no annoy.
What though with simple cheere he homely fares?
He liues content, a King can doo no more;
Nay not so much, for Kings haue manie cares:
But he hath none; except it be that sore
Which yong and old, which vexeth ritch and poore,
The pangs of Loue. O! who can vanquish Loue?
That conquers Kingdomes, and the Gods aboue?
Deepe-wounding Arrow, hart-consuming Fire;
Ruler of Reason, slaue to tyraunt Beautie;
Monarch of harts, Fuell of fond desire,
Prentice to Folly, foe to faind Duetie.
Pledge of true Zeale, Affections moitie;
If thou kilst where thou wilt, and whom it list thee,
(Alas) how can a silly Soule resist thee?
By thee great _Collin_ lost his libertie,
By thee sweet _Astrophel_ forwent his ioy;
By thee _Amyntas_ wept incessantly,
By thee good _Rowland_ liu'd in great annoy;
O cruell, peeuish, vylde, blind-seeing Boy:
How canst thou hit their harts, and yet not see?
(If thou be blinde, as thou art faind to bee).
A Shepheard loues no ill, but onely thee;
He hath no care, but onely by thy causing:
Why doost thou shoot thy cruell shafts at mee?
Giue me some respite, some short time of pausing:
Still my sweet Loue with bitter lucke th'art sawcing:
Oh, if thou hast a minde to shew thy might;
Kill mightie Kings, and not a wretched wight.
Yet (O Enthraller of infranchizd harts)
At my poor hart if thou wilt needs be ayming,
Doo me the fauour, show me both thy Darts,
That I may chuse the best for my harts mayming,
(A free consent is priuiledgd from blaming:)
Then pierce his hard hart with thy golden Arrow,
That thou my wrong, that he may rue my sorrow.
But let mee feele the force of thy lead Pyle,
What should I doo with loue when I am old?
I know not how to flatter, fawne, or smyle;
Then stay thy hand, O cruell Bow-man hold:
For if thou strik'st me with thy dart of gold,
I sweare to thee (by Ioues immortall curse)
I haue more in my hart, than in my purse.
The more I weepe, the more he bends his Bow,
For in my hart a golden Shaft I finde:
(Cruell, vnkinde) and wilt thou leaue me so?
Can no remorce nor pittie moue thy minde?
Is Mercie in the Heauens so hard to finde?
Oh, then it is no meruaile that on earth
Of kinde Remorce there is so great a dearth.
How happie were a harmles Shepheards life,
If he had neuer knowen what Loue did meane;
But now fond Loue in euery place is rife,
Staining the purest Soule with spots vncleane,
Making thicke purses, thin: and fat bodies, leane:
Loue is a fiend, a fire, a heauen, a hell;
Where pleasure, paine, and sad repentance dwell.
There are so manie _Danaes_ nowadayes,
That loue for lucre; paine for gaine is sold:
No true affection can their fancie please,
Except it be a _Ioue_, to raine downe gold
Into their laps, which they wyde open hold:
If _legem pone_ comes, he is receau'd,
When _Vix haud habeo_ is of hope bereau'd.
Thus haue I showed in my Countrey vaine
The sweet Content that Shepheards still inioy;
The mickle pleasure, and the little paine
That euer doth awayte the Shepheards Boy:
His hart is neuer troubled with annoy.
He is a King, for he commands his Sheepe;
He knowes no woe, for he doth seldome weepe.
He is a Courtier, for he courts his Loue:
He is a Scholler, for he sings sweet Ditties:
He is a Souldier, for he wounds doth proue;
He is the fame of Townes, the shame of Citties;
He scornes false Fortune, put true Vertue pitties.
He is a Gentleman, because his nature
Is kinde and affable to euerie Creature.
Who would not then a simple Shepheard bee,
Rather than be a mightie Monarch made?
Since he inioyes such perfect libertie,
As neuer can decay, nor neuer fade:
He seldome sits in dolefull Cypresse shade,
But liues in hope, in ioy, in peace, in blisse:
Ioying all ioy with this content of his.
But now good-fortune lands my little Boate
Vpon the shoare of his desired rest:
Now I must leaue (awhile) my rurall noate,
To thinke on him whom my soule loueth best;
He that can make the most vnhappie blest:
In whose sweete lap He lay me downe to sleepe,
And neuer wake till Marble-stones shall weepe.
_FINIS._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
SONNET.
[Illustration]
Loe here behold these tributarie Teares
Paid to thy faire, but cruell tyrant Eyes;
Loe here the blossome of my youthfull yeares,
Nipt with the fresh of thy Wraths winter, dyes,
Here on Loues Altar I doo offer vp
This burning hart for my Soules sacrifice;
Here I receaue this deadly-poysned Cu[p]
Of _Circe_ charm'd; wherein deepe Magicke lyes.
Then Teares (if thou be happie Teares indeed),
And Hart (if thou be lodged in his brest),
And Cup (if thou canst helpe despaire with speed);
Teares, Hart, and Cup conjoyne to make me blest:
Teares moue, Hart win, Cup cause, ruth, loue, desire,
In word, in deed, by moane, by zeale, by fire.
_FINIS._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE COMPLAINT
OF CHASTITIE.
Briefely touching the cause of the death of _Matilda Fitzwalters_ an
English Ladie; sometime loued of King _Iohn_, after poysoned. The
Storie is at large written by _Michael Dreyton_.
[Illustration]
You modest Dames, inricht with Chastitie.
Maske your bright eyes with _Vestaes_ sable Vaile,
Since few are left so faire or chast as shee;
(Matter for me to weepe, you to bewaile):
For manie seeming so, of Vertue faile;
Whose louely Cheeks (with rare vermillion tainted)
Can neuer blush because their faire is painted.
O faire-foule Tincture, staine of Woman-kinde,
Mother of Mischiefe, Daughter of Deceate,
False traitor to the Soule, blot to the Minde,
Vsurping Tyrant of true Beauties seate,
Right Cousner of the eye, lewd Follies baite,
The flag of filthines, the sinke of shame,
The Diuells dye, dishonour of thy name.
Monster of Art, Bastard of bad Desier,
Il-worshipt Idoll, false Imagerie,
Ensigne of Vice, to thine owne selfe a lier,
Silent Inchaunter, mindes Anatomie,
Sly Bawd to Lust, Pandor to Infamie,
Slaunder of Truth, Truth of Dissimulation;
Staining our Clymate more than anie Nature.
What shall I say to thee? thou scorne of Nature,
Blacke spot of sinne, vylde lure of lecherie;
Iniurious Blame to euerie faemale creature,
Wronger of time, Broker of trecherie,
Trap of greene youth, false Womens witcherie,
Hand-maid of pride, high-way to wickednesse;
Yet path-way to Repentance, nere the lesse.
Thou dost entice the minde to dooing euill,
Thou setst dissention twixt the man and wife;
A Saint in show, and yet indeed a deuill:
Thou art the cause of euerie common strife;
Thou art the life of Death, the death of Life!
Thou doost betray thyselfe to Infamie,
When thou art once discernd by the eye.
Ah, little knew _Matilda_ of thy being,
Those times were pure from all impure complection;
Then Loue came at Desert, Desert of seeing,
Then Vertue was the mother of Affection,
(But Beautie now is vnder no subjection),
Then women were the same that men did deeme,
But now they are the same they doo not seeme.
What fæmale now intreated of a King
With gold and iewels, pearles and precious stones,
Would willingly refuse so sweete a thing?
Onely for a little show of Vertue ones?
Women haue kindnes grafted in their bones.
Gold is a deepe-perswading Orator,
Especially where few the fault abhor.
But yet shee rather deadly poyson chose,
(Oh cruell Bane of most accursed Clime;)
Than staine that milk-white Mayden-virgin Rose,
Which shee had kept vnspotted till that time:
And not corrupted with this earthly slime
Her soule shall liue: inclosd eternally,
In that pure shrine of Immortality.
This is my Doome: and this shall come to passe,
For what are Pleasures but still-vading ioyes?
Fading as flowers, brittle as a glasse,
Or Potters Clay; crost with the least annoyes;
All thinges in this life are but trifling Toyes:
But Fame and Vertue neuer shall decay,
For Fame is Toomblesse, Vertue liues for aye!
_FINIS._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Hellens Rape.
_OR_
A light Lanthorne for light Ladies.
Written in English Hexameters.
[Illustration]
_Louely a Lasse, so loued a Lasse, and (alas) such a louing_
_Lasse, for a while (but a while) was none such a sweet bonny
Loue-Lasse_
_As_ Helen, Mænelaus _louing, lou'd, loulie a loue-lasse,_
_Till spightfull Fortune from a loue-lasse made her a loue-lesse_
_Wife. From a wise woman to a witles vvanton abandond,_
_When her mate (vnawares) made warres in_ Peloponessus,_
_Adultrous_ Paris (_then a Boy_) _kept sheepe as a shepheard_
_On_ Ida _Mountaine, vnknowne to the King for a Keeper_
_Of sheep, on_ Ida _Mountaine, as a Boy, as a shepheard:_
_Yet such sheep he kept, and was so seemelie a shepheard,_
_Seemlie a Boy, so seemlie a youth, so seemlie a Younker,_
_That on_ Ida _was not such a Boy, such a youth, such a Younker._
_Sonne now reconcil'd to the Father, fained a letter_
_Sent him by_ Iupiter (_the greatest God in_ Olympus)
_For to repaire with speede to the brauest Græcian Hauen,
And to redeeme againe_ Hesyone _latelie reuolted
From_ Troy _by_ Aiax, _whom she had newly betrothed.
Well, so well he told his tale to his Aunt_ Amaryllis
_That_ Amaryllis, _(his Aunt,) obtaind aid of his aged
Syre, that he sent him a ship, and made Capten of_ Argus.
_Great store went to Greece with lust-bewitched_ Alexis,
Telamour, _and_ Tydias: _with these he sliceth the salt seas,
The salt seas slicing, at length he comes to the firme land,
Firme land an auntient Iland cald old_ Lacedæmon.
Argus _(eye full Earle) when first the ken of a Castle
He had spide bespake: (to the Mate, to the men, to the Mates-man)
Lo behold of Greece (quoth he) the great_ Cytadella.
(_Ycleaped_ Menela) _so tearmed of_ Deliaes _Husband:
Happie_ Helen, _Womens most woonder, beautifull_ Helen.
_Oh would God (quoth he) with a flattring Tongue he repeated:
Oh would God (quoth he) that I might deserue to be husband
To such a happie huswife, to such a beautifull_ Helen.
_This he spake to intice the minde of a lecherous young-man:
But what spurres need now, for an vntam'd Titt to be trotting:
Or to add old Oile to the flame, new flaxe to the fier:_
Paris _heard him hard, and gaue good eare to his hearkening:
And then his loue to a lust, his lust was turnd to a fier,
Fier was turnd to a flame, and flame was turnd to a burning
Brand: and mothers Dreame was then most truelie resolued.
Well so far th'are come, that now th'are come to the Castle,
Castle all of stone, yet euery stone vvas a Castle:
Euerie foote had a Fort, and euerie Fort had a fountaine,
Euerie fountaine a spring, and euerie spring had a spurting
Streame: so strong without, vvithin, so stately a building,
Neuer afore vvas seene; If neuer afore_ Polyphœbe
_Was seene: vvas to be seene, if nere to be seene vvas_ Olympus.
_Flovvers vvere framd of flints, Walls, Rubies, Rafters of Argent:
Pauement of Chrisolite, Windows contriu'd of a Cristall:
Vessels were of gold, with gold was each thing adorned:
Golden Webs more worth than a vvealthy_ Souldan _of Egypt,
And her selfe more vvorth than a vvealthy_ Souldan _of Egypt:
And her selfe more worth than all the wealth shee possessed;
Selfe? indeede such a selfe, as thundring_ Ioue _in_ Olympus,
_Though he were father could finde in his hart to be husband.
Embassage ended, to the Queene of faire_ Lacedæmon;
_(Happie King of a Queene so faire, of a Countrey so famous)
Embassage ended, a Banquet braue was appointed:
Sweet Repast for a Prince, fine Iunkets fit for a Kings sonne.
Biskets and Carrawayes, Comfets, Tart, Plate, Ielley, Gingerbread,
Lymons and Medlars: and Dishes moe by a thousand.
First they fell to the feast, and after fall to a Dauncing,
And from a Dance to a Trance, from a Trance they fell to a falling,
Either in other armes, and either in armes of another.
Pastime ouer-past, and Banquet duely prepared,
Deuoutly pared: Each one hies home to his owne home,
Saue Lord and Ladie; Young Lad, but yet such an old Lad,
In such a Ladies lappe, at such a slipperie by-blow,
That in a vvorld so vvilde, could not be found such a wilie
Lad: in an Age so old, could not be found such an old lad:
Old lad, and bold lad, such a Boy, such a lustie_ Iuuentus:
_Well to their vvorke they goe, and both they iumble in one Bed:
Worke so well they like, that they still like to be vvorking:
For_ Aurora _mounts before he leaues to be mounting:
And_ Astræa _fades before she faints to be falling:_
(Helen _a light Huswife, now a lightsome starre in_ Olympus.)
_FINIS._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Cynthia._
VVITH CER-
taine
Sonnets, and
the Legend of
_Cassandra._
_Quod cupio nequeo._
[Illustration]
_At London_,
Printed for Humfrey
_Lownes, and are to bee_
sold at the VVest doore
of Paules. 1595.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
To the Right Honorable, and
most noble-minded Lorde,
William Stanley, Earle of
Darby, &c.
[Illustration]
_Right Honorable, the dutifull affection I beare to your manie vertues,
is cause, that to manifest my loue to your Lordship, I am constrained
to shew my simplenes to the world. Many are they that admire your
worth, of the which number, I (though the meanest in abilitie, yet with
the formost in affection) am one that most desire to serue, and onely
to serue your Honour._
_Small is the gift, but great is my good-will; the which, by how
much the lesse I am able to expresse it, by so much the more it is
infinite. Liue long: and inherit your Predecessors vertues, as you doe
their dignitie and estate. This is my wish: the which your honorable
excellent giftes doe promise me to obtaine: and whereof these few rude
and vnpollished lines, are a true (though an vndeseruing) testimony.
If my ability were better, the signes should be greater; but being as
it is, your honour must take me as I am, not as I should be. My yeares
being so young, my perfection cannot be greater: But howsoeuer it is,
yours it is; and I my selfe am yours; in all humble seruice, most ready
to be commaunded._
Richard Barnefeilde.
[Illustration]
_To the curteous Gentlemen Readers._
[Illustration]
Gentlemen; the last Terme [_i.e._, _November_ 1594] there came forth
a little toy of mine, intituled, _The affectionate Shepheard:_ In
the which, his Country _Content_ found such friendly fauor, that it
hath incouraged me to publish my second fruites. _The affectionate
Shepheard_ being the first: howsoeuer undeseruedly (I protest) I
haue beene thought (of some) to haue beene the authour of two Books
heretofore. I neede not to name them, because they are two-well
knowne already: nor will I deny them, because they are dislik't; but
because they are not mine. This protestation (I hope) will satisfie
th'indifferent: as for them that are maliciously enuious, as I cannot,
so I care not to please. Some there were, that did interpret _The
affectionate Shepheard_, otherwise then (in truth) I meant, touching
the subiect thereof, to wit, the loue of a Shepheard to a boy; a
fault, the which I will not excuse, because I neuer made. Onely this,
I will vnshaddow my conceit: being nothing else, but an imitation of
_Virgill_, in the second Eglogue of _Alexis_. In one or two places (in
this Booke) I vse the name of _Eliza_ pastorally: wherein, lest any one
should misconster my meaning (as I hope none will) I haue here briefly
discouered my harmeles conceipt as concerning that name: whereof once
(in a simple Shepheards deuice) I wrot this Epigramme.
_One name there is, which name aboue all other
I most esteeme, as time and place shall proue:
The one is_ Vesta, _th'other_ Cupids _Mother,
The first my Goddesse is, the last my loue;
Subiect to Both I am: to that by berth;
To this for beautie; fairest on the earth._
Thus, hoping you will beare with my rude conceit of _Cynthia_, (if for
no other cause, yet, for that it is the first imitation of the verse of
that excellent Poet, Maister _Spencer_, in his _Fayrie Queene_) I will
leaue you to the reading of that, which I so much desire may breed your
Delight.
_Richard Barnefeild._
T. T. in commendation of the _Authour his worke_.
[Illustration]
Whylom that in a shepheards gray coate masked,
(Where masked loue the nonage of his skill)
Reares new Eagle-winged pen, new tasked,
To scale the by-clift Muse sole-pleasing hill:
Dropping sweete Nectar poesie from his quill,
Admires faire CYNTHIA with his iuory pen
Faire CYNTHIA lou'd, fear'd, of Gods and men.
Downe sliding from that cloudes ore-pearing mounteine:
Decking with double grace the neighbour plaines,
Drawes christall dew, from PEGASE foote-sprung fountain,
Whose flower set banks, delights, sweet choice containes:
Nere yet discouerd to the country swaines:
Heere bud those branches, which adorne his turtle,
With loue made garlands, of heart-bleeding Mirtle.
Rays'd from the cynders, of the thrice-sact towne:
ILLIONS sooth-telling SYBILLIST appeares,
Eclipsing PHOEBUS loue, with scornefull frowne,
Whose tragicke end, affords warme-water teares,
(For pitty-wanting PACOE, none forbeares)
Such period haps, to beauties price ore-priz'd:
Where IANVS-faced loue, doth lurke disguiz'd.
Nere-waining CYNTHIA yeelds thee triple thankes,
Whose beames vnborrowed darke the worlds faire eie
And as full streames that euer fill their bankes,
So those rare Sonnets, where wits ripe doth lie,
With Troian Nimph, doe soare thy fame to skie.
And those, and these, contend thy Muse to raise
(Larke mounting Muse) with more then common praise.
_ENG. SCH. LIB. No._ 14.
[Illustration]
_To his Mistresse._
Bright Starre of Beauty, fairest Faire aliue,
Rare president of peerelesse chastity;
(In whom the Muses and the Graces striue,
VVhich shall possesse the chiefest part of thee:)
Oh let these simple lines accepted bee:
VVhich here I offer at thy sacred shrine:
Sacred, because sweet Beauty is diuine.
And though I cannot please each curious eare,
With sugred Noates of heauenly Harmonie:
Yet if my loue shall to thy selfe appeare,
No other Muse I will inuoke but thee:
And if thou wilt my faire _Thalia_ be,
Ile sing sweet Hymnes and praises to thy name,
In that cleare Temple of eternall Fame.