85FAire is my loue, but not
so faire as
fickle.
86Milde as a Doue, but neither true nor tru
stie,
87Brighter then gla
sse, and yet as gla
sse is brittle,
88Softer then waxe, and yet as Iron ru
sty:
89 A lilly pale, with dama
ske die to grace her,
90 None fairer, nor none fal
ser to deface her.
91Her lips to mine how often hath
she ioyned,
92Betweene each ki
sse her othes of true loue
swearing:
93How many tales to plea
se me hath
she coyned,
94Dreading my loue, the lo
sse whereof
still fearing.
95 Yet in the mids of all her pure prote
stings,
96 Her faith, her othes, her teares, and all were iea
stings.
97She burnt with loue, as
straw with
fire
flameth,
98She burnt out loue, as
soone as
straw out burneth:
99She fram d the loue, and yet
she foyld the framing,
100She bad loue la
st, and yet
she fell a turning.
101 Was this a louer, or a Letcher whether?
102 Bad in the be
st, though excellent in neither.
B
103IF Mu
sicke and
sweet Poetrie agree,
104As they mu
st needs (the Si
ster and the brother)
105Then mu
st the loue be great twixt thee and me,
106Becau
se thou lou'
st the one, and I the other.
107Dowland to thee is deere, who
se heauenly tuch
108Vpon the Lute, dooth raui
sh humane
sen
se,
109Spen
ser to me, who
se deepe Conceit is
such,
110As pa
ssing all conceit, needs no defence.
111Thou lou'
st to heare the
sweet melodious
sound,
112That Ph
oebus Lute (the Queene of Mu
sicke) makes:
113And I in deepe Delight am chie
fly drownd,
114When as him
selfe to
singing he betakes.
115 One God is God of both (as Poets faine)
116 One Knight loues Both, and both in thee remaine.
117FAire was the morne, when the faire Queene of loue,
118Paler for
sorrow then her milke white Doue,
119For Adons
sake, a young
ster proud and wilde,
120Her
stand
she takes vpon a
steepe vp hill.
121Anon Adonis comes with horne and hounds,
123She
silly Queene, with more then loues good will,
124Forbad the boy he
should not pa
sse tho
se grounds,
125Once (quoth
she) did I
see a faire
sweet youth
126Here in the
se brakes, deepe wounded with a Boare,
127Deepe in the thigh a
spe
ctacle of ruth,
128Soe in my thigh (quoth
she) here was the
sore,
129 She
shewed hers, he
saw more wounds then one,
130 And blu
shing
fled, and left her all alone.
B 3