Sonet 55

Truce gentle loue, a parly now I craue, Me thinks, 'tis long since first these wars begun, Nor thou nor I, the better yet can haue: Bad is the match where neither party wone.

I offer free conditions of faire peace, My hart for hostage, that it shall remaine, Discharge our forces heere, let malice cease, So for my pledge, thou giue me pledge againe.

Or if nothing but death will serue thy turne, Still thirsting for subuersion of my state; Doe what thou canst, raze, ma.s.sacre, and burne, Let the world see the vtmost of thy hate: I send defiance, since if ouerthrowne, Thou vanquishing, the conquest is mine owne.

Sonet 56

_A Consonet_

Eyes with your teares, blind if you bee, Why haue these teares such eyes to see, Poore eyes, if yours teares cannot moue, My teares, eyes, then must mone my loue, Then eyes, since you haue lost your sight, Weepe still, and teares shall lend you light, Till both desolu'd, and both want might.

No, no, cleere eyes, you are not blind, But in my teares discerne my mind: Teares be the language which you speake, Which my hart wanting, yet must breake; My tongue must cease to tell my wrongs, And make my sighs to get them tongs, Yet more then this to her belongs.

Sonet 57

_To_ Lucie _Countesse of Bedford_

Great Lady, essence of my chiefest good, Of the most pure and finest tempred spirit, Adorn'd with gifts, en.o.bled by thy blood, Which by discent true vertue do'st inherit: That vertue which no fortune can depriue, Which thou by birth tak'st from thy gracious mother, Whose royall minds with equall motion striue, Which most in honour shall excell the other; Vnto thy fame my Muse herself shall taske, Which rain'st vpon me thy sweet golden showers, And but thy selfe, no subject will I aske, Vpon whose praise my soule shall spend her powers.

Sweet Lady yet, grace this poore Muse of mine, Whose faith, whose zeale, whose life, whose all is thine.

Sonet 58

_To the Lady_ Anne Harington

Madam, my words cannot expresse my mind, My zealous kindnes to make knowne to you, When your desarts all seuerally I find; In this attempt of me doe claim their due, Your gracious kindnes that doth claime my hart; Your bounty bids my hand to make it knowne, Of me your vertues each doe claime a part, And leaue me thus the least part of mine owne.

What should commend your modesty and wit, Is by your wit and modesty commended And standeth dumbe, in much admiring it, And where it should begin, it there is ended; Returning this your prayses onely due, And to your selfe say you are onely you.

[from the Edition of 1602]

Sonnet 12

_To Lunacie_

As other men, so I my selfe doe muse, Why in this sort I wrest Inuention so, And why these giddy metaphors I vse, Leauing the path the greater part doe goe; I will resolue you; I am lunaticke, And euer this in mad men you shall finde, What they last thought on when the braine grew sick, In most distraction keepe that still in minde.

Thus talking idely in this bedlam fit, Reason and I, (you must conceiue) are twaine, 'Tis nine yeeres, now, since first I lost my wit Beare with me, then, though troubled be my braine; With diet and correction, men distraught, (Not too farre past) may to their wits be brought.

Sonnet 17

If hee from heauen that filch'd that liuing fire, Condemn'd by _Ioue_ to endlesse torment be, I greatly meruaile how you still goe free, That farre beyond _Promethius_ did aspire?

The fire he stole, although of heauenly kinde, Which from aboue he craftily did take, Of liueles clods vs liuing men to make, Againe bestow'd in temper of the mind.

But you broke in to heauens immortall store, Where vertue, honour, wit, and beautie lay, Which taking thence, you haue escap'd away, Yet stand as free as ere you did before.

But old _Promethius_ punish'd for his rape, Thus poore theeues suffer, when the greater scape.

Sonnet 25

_To Folly_

With fooles and children good discretion beares, Then honest people beare with Loue and me, Nor older yet, nor wiser made by yeeres, Amongst the rest of fooles and children be; Loues still a Baby, playes with gaudes and toyes, And like a wanton sports with euery feather, And Idiots still are running after boyes, Then fooles and children fitt'st to goe together; He still as young as when he first was borne, No wiser I, then when as young as he, You that behold vs, laugh vs not to scorne, Giue Nature thanks, you are not such as we; Yet fooles and children sometimes tell in play, Some wise in showe, more fooles in deede, then they.

Sonnet 27

I heare some say, this man is not in loue, Who, can he loue? a likely thing they say: Reade but his verse, and it will easily proue; O iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray, Because I loosely tryfle in this sort, As one that faine his sorrowes would beguile: You now suppose me, all this time in sport, And please your selfe with this conceit the while.

You shallow censures; sometime see you not In greatest perills some men pleasant be, Where fame by death is onely to be got, They resolute, so stands the case with me; Where other men, in depth of pa.s.sion cry, I laugh at fortune, as in iest to die.

Sonnet 31

To such as say thy loue I ouer-prize, And doe not sticke to terme my praises folly, Against these folkes that think them selues so wise, I thus appose my force of reason wholly, Though I giue more, then well affords my state, In which expense the most suppose me vaine, Would yeeld them nothing at the easiest rate, Yet at this price, returnes me treble gaine, They value not, vnskilfull how to vse, And I giue much, because I gaine thereby, I that thus take, or they that thus refuse, Whether are these deccaued then, or I?

In euery thing I hold this maxim still, The circ.u.mstance doth make it good or ill.

Sonnet 41

Deare, why should you commaund me to my rest When now the night doth summon all to sleepe?

Me thinks this time becommeth louers best, Night was ordained together friends to keepe.

How happy are all other liuing things, Which though the day disioyne by seuerall flight, The quiet euening yet together brings, And each returnes vnto his loue at night.

O thou that art so curteous vnto all, Why shouldst thou Night abuse me onely thus, That euery creature to his kinde doost call, And yet tis thou doost onely seuer vs.

Well could I wish it would be euer day, If when night comes you bid me goe away.

Sonnet 58

_To Prouerbe_

As Loue and I, late harbour'd in one Inne, With Prouerbs thus each other intertaine; _In loue there is no lacke, thus I beginne?

Faire words makes fooles, replieth he againe?

That spares to speake, doth spare to speed (quoth I) As well (saith he) too forward as too slow.

Fortune a.s.sists the boldest, I replie?

A hasty man (quoth he) nere wanted woe.

Labour is light, where loue (quoth I) doth pay, (Saith he) light burthens heauy, if farre borne?

(Quoth I) the maine lost, cast the by away: You haue spunne a faire thred, he replies in scorne_.

And hauing thus a while each other thwarted, Fooles as we met, so fooles againe we parted.

Sonnet 63

_To the high and mighty Prince, James, King of Scots_

Not thy graue Counsells, nor thy Subiects loue, Nor all that famous Scottish royaltie, Or what thy soueraigne greatnes may approue, Others in vaine doe but historifie, When thine owne glorie from thy selfe doth spring, As though thou did'st, all meaner prayses scorne: Of Kings a Poet, and the Poets King, They Princes, but thou Prophets do'st adorne; Whilst others by their Empires are renown'd, Thou do'st enrich thy Scotland with renowne, And Kings can but with Diadems be crown'd, But with thy Laurell, thou doo'st crowne thy Crowne; That they whose pens, euen life to Kings doe giue, In thee a King, shall seeke them selues to liue.