Thou canst not fee one wrinckle in my brow,
Mine eyes are grey,and bright, & quicke in turning:
My beautie as the fpring doth yearelic grow,
My flesh is foft,and plumpe, my marrow burning,
My fmooth moift hand,were it with thy hand felt,
VVould in thy palme diffolue,or feeme to melt.

Bid me difcourfe, I will inchaunt thine eare,
Or like a Fairie, trip vpon the greene,
Or like a Nimph, with long ditheueled heare,
Dance on the fands, and yet no footing feene.
Loue is a spirit all compact of fire,

Not groffe to finke, but light, and will afpire.

VVitneffe this Primrose banke whereon Ilie,
Thefe forcelefle flowers like sturdy trees fupport me:
Twoltregihles doues will draw me through the skie,
From momne till night, cuen where I lift to fport inc.
Is loue fo light fweet boy, and may it be,
That thou thould thinke it heauie vnto thee?

Is thine owne heart to thine owne face affected?.
Can thy right hand ceaze loue vpon thy left?
Then woo thy felfe, be of thy felfe reieded:
Steale thine own freedome,and complaine on theft.
Narciffus fo him felfe him felfe forfooke,
And died to kiffe his fhadow in the brooke.

11. 139-162

Torches are made to light, iewels to weare,
Dainties to taft, fresh beautie for the vse,
Herbes for their fmell, and fappie plants to beare.
Things growing to them felues, are growths abuse,
Seeds fpring fro feed:,& beauty breedeth beauty,
Thou waft begot, to get it is thy duty.

Vpon the earths increase why shouldst thou feed,
Vnleffe the earth with thy increate be fed ?
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may liue,when thou thy felfe art dead:
And fo in fpite of death thou doeft furuiue,
In that thy likeneffe ftill is left aliue.

By this the loue-ficke Queene began to fweate,
For where they lay the fhadow had forfooke them,
And Titan tired in the midday heate,

VVith burning eye did hotly ouer-looke them,
VVithing Adonis had his teame to guide,
So he were like him, and by Venus fide.

And now Adonis with a lazie fprite,
And with a heauie, darke, difliking eye,
His lowring browes ore-whelming his faire fight,
Like miftie vapors when they blot the skic,

Sowring his checkes, cries, fie, no more ofloue,
The funne doth burne my face I muft remoue.

Ay,me,

ll. 163–186

Ay, me, (quoth Venus) young, and fo vnkinde,
VVhat bare excufes mak'ft thou to be gon?
Ile figh celestiall breath, whofe gentle winde,
Shall coole the heate of this defcending fun:
lle make a fhadow for thee of my heares,

If they burn too,lle quench them with my teares.

The fun that shines from heauen, fhines but warme,
And lo llye betweene that funne,and thee:
The heate I haue from thence doth litle harme,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me,
And were I not immortall, life were done,
Betweene this heauenly,and earthly funne,

Art thou obdurate, flintie, hard as steele ?
Nay more then flint, for stone at raine relenteth:
Art thou a womans fonne and can't not feele
VVhattis to loue, how want of loue tormenteth?
O had thy mother borne fo hard a minde,
She had not brought forth thee, but died vnkind.

VVhat am I that thoufhouldft contemne me this?
Or what great danger, dwels vpon my fute?
VVhat were thy lips the worfe for one poore kis?
Speake faire,but fpeake faire words,or elfe be mute:
Giue me one kiffe, llégiue it thee againe,
And one for intreft, if thou wilt hate twaine.

C

ll. 187-210

Fie, liueleffe picture, cold, and fenceleffe stone,
VVell painted idoll, image dull, and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man,but of no woman bred;

Thou art no man, though of a mans complexion,
For men will kisse euen by their owne direction,

This faid, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And fwelling paffion doth prouoke a paule,
Red cheeks, and fierie eyes blaze forth her wrong:
Being ludge in loue, the cannot right her caufe.
And now the weeps,& now fhe faine would speake
And now her fobs do her intendments breake.

Sometime the thakes her head, and then his hand,
Now gazeth fhe on him, now on the ground;
Sometime her armes infold him like a band,
She would, he will not in her armes be bound:
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lillie fingers one in one.

Fondling, the faith, fince I haue hemd thee here
VVithin the circuit of this iuorie pale,
lle be a parke, and thou shalt be my deare:
Feed where thou wilt, on mountaine,or in dale;
Graze on my lips, and if thofe hils be drie,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountaines lie.
VVithin

11. 211-234

VVitin this limit is reliefe inough,

Sweet bottome graffe, and high delightfull plaine,
Round rifing hillocks,brakes obfcure,and rough,
To thelter thee from tempeft,and from raine:
Then be my deare, fince I am fuch a parke,
No dog fhal rowze thee,though a thoufand bark.
At this Adonis miles as in difdaine,

That in ech cheeke appeares a prettie dimple;
Loue made thofe hollowes, if him felfe were flaine,
He might be buried in a tombe so simple,

Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
VVhy there loue liu'd, & there he could not die.

Thefe louely caues, these round inchanting pits,
Opend their mouthes to fwallow Venus liking:
Being mad before, how doth fhe now for wits?
Strucke dead at first, what needs a fecond striking?
Poore Queene of louc,in thine own law forlorne,
To louc a cheeke that fmiles at thee in scorne.

Now which way shall she turne? what shall she say?
Her words are done, her woes the more increafing,
The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining atmes doth vrge releafing:
Pitic fhe cries, fome fauour, fome remorse,
Away he fprings, and hafteth to his horse.

Cij

11. 235-258