TO THE FAIREST
COELIA.
Parue, nec inuideo,
LONDON,
ine me liber ibis ad illam,
Hei mihi quod domino no licet ire tuo.Trift.I.
for W. P.
1 5 9 4.
TO THE FAIREST
COELIA.
Parue, nec inuideo,
LONDON,ine me liber ibis ad illam,
Hei mihi quod domino no licet ire tuo.Trift.I.
for W. P.
1 5 9 4.
[ p.iii ] [Link to title page & first preface page]
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 elfe, yet of courteie hauing lent them to ome, they were ecretlie committed to the Pree, and almost finihed, before it came to my knowledge. Wherefore making, as they ay, Vertue of nece sitie, J did deeme it most conuenient to præpoe mine Epitle, onely to beeech you to account of them as of toyes and amorous deuies, and ere long , I will impart |
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hall be both more fruitfull and ponderous. In thee as a pledge unto your indifferent cen- ures. London,1594.
W. Percy.  |
[ p.1 ] [Link to first Sonnet page]
 Sonnet I.
e doome to endlee paine,Lo here I ope my orrovves pasion,That eu'rie illie eye may vievv mot plaine,A entence giuen on no occaion.If that by chaunce they fall mo t fortunate,Within tho e cruell hands that did enact it,Say but, alas he vvas too pa sionate,My doome is pa t, nor can be novv vnactit.So may t thou ee I vvas a potlee louer,And grieue vvithall that ere thou dealt o ore.Vnto remor e vvho goes about to moue her,Pur ues the vvinged vvinds, and tils the hore.Louelie is her emblance, hard is her hart,Wauering is her mind, ure is her dart.
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Oh happie houre, and yet vnhappie houre, When fir t by chaunce I had my goddee vievved,Then fir t I tasted of the svveetet oure,Wherevvith the cup of Cypria is embrevved. For gazing ferme vvithout upition,Loue coopt behind the charet of her eye, Iu tly to choole my bold preumption,Again t my hart did let an arrovv flie:Faire ir, quoth he, to practie haue you noughtBut to be gazing on deuinitie? Before you part, your leare you hall be tought,With that attonce he made his arrovves hie: Imperious God, I did it not to loue her, Ah, tay thy hand, I did it but to proue her.
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[ p.3 ]
 Proue her ? Ah no, I did it but to loue her: Then hoote amaine, drad liege, I tand vnarmed,Altho no hope that any thing may moue her, Some ea e it is to be by beautie charmed.Then quicke, my liege, th  quicke, & end thy game,That all the vvorld may ee hovv thou hat plagu'd vs,Then cruell he hall vieww vnto her blame,That all men be not fickle as they'ue term'd vs: May be, my vvords may vvinne contrition; If not my vvords, my obs; if not my obs,My teares may moue her to compa sion;If teares do faile, my tears, my vvords, my throbs, Ay me, Ah no, teares, vvords, throbs all in vaine, She cornes my dole, and mileth at my paine.
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 Oh heauenly Cœlia, as faire as vertuous, The only mirrour of true cha titie,Haue I beene gain t thy godhead impious,That thus am guerdond for my fealtie? Haue I not hed vpon thine yu'rie shrine,Huge drops of teares vvith large eruptions? Haue I not offred eu'ning and at prime My ighs, my Palms o inuocations?VVhat be mens ighs, but cals of guilefulnee?They hevv, deare loue, true proofs of fermitieWhat be your teares, but meere vngratiou nee?Teares only plead for our implicite:VVhen all trike mute, he aies it is my dutie,And claimes as much as to her deitie.
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Faire Queene of Gnidos come adorn my forehead, And crovvne me vvith the lavvrell emperor, I'ó thri e ing I'ó about thy Poet,Loe on my godde e I am conqueror.For once by chaunce, not ure, or vvittingly,Vpon my foot, her tender foot alighted, With that he plukt it off full vvimbely,As though the verie touch had her afrighted: Deere mi tree, vvill you deale o cruelly,To priue me of o mall a benefit?What ? do you iert it off o nimbely,As though in verie ooth a nake had bit it?Yea bit perhaps indeed: Ho, Mu es blab you?Not a vvord Pieannets, or I vvill gag you.
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Good God hovv encelee be vve paramours,So proudly on a nothing for to vaunt it? We cannot reape the meane t of all fauours,But by and by vve thinke our ute is grauntit.Had ye ob eru'd tvvo planets vvhich then mo ted,Tvvo certaine ignes of indignation,Ye vvould haue deemed rather both con ented,To turne all hopes to de peration.Then can you vvauer o incontantly,To hevv firt loue, and then didainfulnee?Fir t for to bring a dramme of courteie,Then mix it vvith an ounce of cornfulnee?No, no, the doubt is an vver'd, certainlieShe trod by chaunce, he trod not vvittingly.
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If it be in o dearely for to loue thee,Come bind my hands, I am thy pri oner,Yet if a parke of pittie may but moue thee,Fir t it vpon the caue commisioner.The ame vvell heard may vvret incontinentTvvo floods from foorth tho e rocks of adamantWhich treaming dovvne vvith force impatient,May melt the bre t of my fierce Rhadamant.Deare t cruell the caue I ee dilikes thee,On vs thy brovves thou bends o direfully;Enioine me pennaunce vvhat oeuer likes thee,What e're it be I'le take it thankefully. Yet ince for loue it is I am thy bondman,Good Cœlia v e me like a Gentleman.
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Strike vp, my Lute, and ea e my heauie cares,The onely olace to my pasions,Impart vnto the aires thy plea ing aires,More vveet than heauenly conolations.Rehear e the ongs of forlorne amor'usDriv'ne to de paire by dames tyrannicall,Of Alpheus lo e, of vvoes of Troilus,Of Rowlands rage, of Jphis funerall. Ay me, vvhat vvarbles yeelds mine in trument?The ba es skrieke, as though they vvere amis,The Meanes, no meanes, too fad the meriment, No, no, the mu icke good, but thus it is,I loath both Meanes, meriment, Diapa ons,So he and I may be but Vnions.
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Whil t others vveene ole hopes to be a auue,Sole hopes I find to be my coro iues:Whil t others found in hopes an harbour haue,From hopes I feele a ea of orrovves rie:For vvhen mild hopes hould eae my raging fires,They fe ter more, in that they are but hopes:Then vvhil t I touch the port of my deires,A torme of hate doth burt mine anchor ropes.Were I but once re olued certainly,Soon hould I knovv vvhich point my helme to tere,But he denies my ute mot vvomanly,As hidden documents for vs to heare. Loe this the cau e my hell forakes me neuer.Tell me, (deare vveet) thus hal I liue for euer?
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¶ A MYSTERIE. To vvinne the Fort hovv oft haue I a ayd,Wherein the heart of my faire mi tree lies?What Rammes, vvhat mines, vvhat plots haue I not layd? Fir t from the leads of that proud citadell,Do foulder forth tvvo fierie culuerines, Vndertvvo red coates keepe the Larum bell, For feare of clo e or open venturings.Before the gates Scorne, Feare, and Mode tie,Do to e amaine their pikes, but boue them allPudic'itie vveilds her taffe mot manfullie,Garded vvith blocks that keepe me from the vvall, Yet if this taffe vvill ford me cleare the vvay,In pite of all I'le beare my Dame avvay.
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¶ TO POLYXENA. Of all the vvomen vvhich of yore haue beene, Alcest for vertue may be glorify'd, For courage Teuce, for features Spartaes queene, For all in one Polyxen' deify'd. If true it be by old Philo ophie,The e oules to haue ince detin entered,To other bodies of like impathie,Thou art the la t of thee Metemps' choed.Thy courage vvoonderous, thy vertues peerele e,Thy features haue the faire t Ladies blamed,Then if thou corn't not uch a Monarchee,Henceforth by rea on good, thou halt be named,Nor Teuce, nor Alcest, nor faire Helena, Thou halt be nam'd my deare Polyxena.
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Cœlia, of all vveet courteies reolue me,For vvi hed grace, hovv mut I novv be doing,Since Ops the cõplet' t frame vvhich did abolue thee,Hath made each parcell to my ole vndoing?Tho e vvires vvhich hould thy corps to mine vnite,Be raies to daze vs from o neere approch,Thine eyne vvhich hould my nighted ailers light,Be hot to keepe them off vvith foule reproch.Tho e ruddie plummes embrevv'd vvith heauenly foods,Wh I would ucke th turne to driet currall,And vvhen I couch betvveene her lillie buds, They urge like frothie vvater mounts aboue all:Surelie they vvere all made vnto good v es,But he them all vntovvardly abues.
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With greeueus thoughts & vveighty cares oppre t,One day I vvent to Venus Fanacle, Of Cyprian dreames vvhich did me ore molet,To be re olv'd by certaine oracle,No ooner vvas I pat the temples gate,But from the hrine vvhere Venus vvont to tand,I avv a Ladie faire and delicate,Did beckon to me vvith her yu'rie hand. VVeening he vvas the goddee of the Fane,VVith cheerefull lookes I tovvards bent my pace, Soone vvhen I came, I found vnto my bane, A Gorgon hadovv'd vnder Venus face,Whereat afright, vvhen backe I vvould be gone, I tood transformed to a peechlee tone.
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When once I avv that no intreats vvould moue her,All means I ought to be deliuered,Again t vvhite Cupid and his golden mother,In hie contempt ba e vvords I vttered;When both from clouds of her bright firmament, With heauie griefes and trong didaine urmounted,Vpon my thoughts and me did hoot reueng'ment,Whil t in our highet prides vve vvere amounted.Nor be they pleas'd to giue vs all the e vvounds,To make me langui h as a dying liuer,But from her orbes they fling their fiarbronds, Thereby to quite con ume both hart and lyuer :Pardon, drad povv'rs, pardon my ra h offence,By heauens bright vaile, t'vvas gain t my cõcience.
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ECHO.
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What may be thought of thine vntovvardne e,That mooue t till at euerie motion?What may be hop'd of o trange vncouthnee,That cornes all vovves, cornes all deuotion?If I but ue, thou vvouldt releeue myne anguih,Tvvo threatning arcks thou bende t rig'rouly;Then if I vveare thy loue doth make me languih,Thou turn' t avvay, and milet cornfully ;Then if I vvish thou vvould' t not tyrannie,Of Tyrannie thou make t but a mock'ry,And if I vveepe, my teares thou doo t depie,And if I tir, thou threatent battery:Froune on, mile on, mocke me, depie me, threat mee,All shall not make me leaue for to intreat thee.
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Relent my deere, yet vnkind Cœlia, At length relent, and giue my orrovves end,So hall I keepe my long vviht holyday,And et a trophey on a frovvard frend,Nor tributes, nor impo ts, nor other duties,Demaund I vvill as lavvfull conqueror; Duties, tributes, impo ts vnto thy beauties,My elfe vvill pay, as yeelded eruitor.Then quicke relent, thy elfe doth conquer vs :Braue ir and vvhy, quoth he, mut I relent?Relent, cry'd I, thy elfe doth conquer vs,VVhen eft oons vvith my propper intrument,She cut me off, ay me, and an vvered,You cannot conquer and be conquered.
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I cannot conquer and be conquered: Then vvhole my elfe I yeeld vnto thy fauor,Behold my thoughts flote in an ocean battered, To be ca t off, or vvafted to thine harbor;If of the ame thou vvilt then take acceptance,Stretch out thy faire t hand as flag of peace,If not, no longer keepe vs in attendance, But all at once thy firie hafts releae.If thus I die, an hone t caue of loue,Will of my fates the rigor mittigate, Tho e gratious eyne vvhich vvill a Tartare moue,Will proue my ca e the lee vnfortunate,Altho my friends may rue my chaunce for ay, It vvill be aid, he dy'de for Cœlia.
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It hall be ayd I dy'de for Cœlia;Then quicke thou grie lie man of Erebus,Tran port me hence vnto Proerpina,To be adiudg'd as vvilfull amor'us: To be hong vp vvithin the liquid aire, For all the ighs vvhich I in vaine haue vvated,To be through Lethes vvaters clen ed faire,For tho e darke clouds vvhich haue my lookes or'ecated,To be condemd to euerla ting fire,Becau e at Cupids fire I vvilfull brent me,And to be clad for deadly dumps in mire: Among o manie plagues vvhich shall torment me,One olace I hall find vvhen I am ouer,It vvill be knovvne I dy'de a con tant louer.
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Receaue the e vvrits, my vveet and deeret frend,The liuelie patterns of my liuele e bodie,VVhere thou halt find in Hebon pictures pend,Hovv I vvas meeke, but thou extreamlie blodie. I'le vvalke forlorne along the vvillovv hades,Alone complaining of a ruthle e dame;VVhere ere I pa e, the rocks, the hilles, the glades,In pittious yelles hall ound her cruell name,There I vvill vvaile the lot vvhich fortune ent me,And make my mones vnto the auage eares,The remnant of the daies vvhich nature lent me, Ile pend them all, conceald, in ceaelee teares.Since vnkind fates permit me nor t'enioy her, No more, bur t eyes, I meane for to annoy her.
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Parthenophe. M A D R I G A L L.
When first I heard thy loues to Laya,
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