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| WHILE favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought; | |
| Thought waited on delight; and speech did follow thought. | |
| Then grew my tongue and pen records unto thy glory. | |
| I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee; | |
| I thought each place was dark, but where thy lights would be; | 5 |
| And all ears worse than deaf, that heard not out thy story. | |
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| I said thou wert most fair, and so indeed thou art. | |
| I said thou art most sweet, sweet poison to my heart. | |
| I said my soul was thine, O that I then had lied! | |
| I said thine eyes were stars, thy breasts the milken way, | 10 |
| Thy fingers CUPID’s shafts, thy voice the Angels’ lay: | |
| And all I said so well, as no man it denied. | |
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| But now that hope is lost, unkindness kills delight; | |
| Yet thought and speech do live, thought metamorphosed quite: | |
| For RAGE now rules the reins, which guided were by PLEASURE. | 15 |
| I think now of thy faults, who late thought of thy praise. | |
| That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise. | |
| The same key open can, which can lock up a treasure. | |
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| Thou then whom partial heavens conspired in one to frame | |
| The proof of beauty’s worth, th’inheritrix of fame, | 20 |
| The mansion seat of bliss, and just excuse of lovers: | |
| See now those feathers pluckt, wherewith thou flew most high! | |
| See what clouds of reproach shall dark thy honour’s sky! | |
| Whose own fault casts him down, hardly high seat recovers. | |
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| And O my Muse! though oft you lulled her in your lap; | 25 |
| And then a heavenly child, gave her ambrosian pap; | |
| And to that brain of hers, your hidnest gifts infused! | |
| Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdain; | |
| Suffer not her to laugh, while both we suffer pain. | |
| Princes in subjects wronged, must deem themselves abused. | 30 |
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| Your client poor, my self; shall STELLA handle so? | |
| Revenge! revenge! my Muse! Defiance trumpet blow! | |
| Threaten what may be done! yet do more than you threaten! | |
| Ah! my suit granted is. I feel my breast doth swell. | |
| Now child! a lesson new you shall begin to spell. | 35 |
| Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girls must be beaten. | |
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| Think now no more to hear of warm fine-odoured snow, | |
| Nor blushing lilies, nor pearls ruby-hidden row, | |
| Nor of that golden sea whose waves in curls are broken: | |
| But of thy soul, so fraught with such ungratefulness, | 40 |
| As where thou soon might’st help; most faith thou dost oppress. | |
| Ungrateful who is called, the worst of evils is spok’n. | |
| |
| Yet worse than worst, I say thou art a Thief! A thief! | |
| Now GOD forbid! A Thief! and of worst thieves, the chief. | |
| Thieves steal for need; and steal but goods, which pain recovers: | 45 |
| But thou, rich in all joys, dost rob my joys from me; | |
| Which cannot be restored by time nor industry. | |
| Of foes, the spoil is evil: far worse of constant lovers’. | |
| |
| Yet gentle English thieves do rob, but will not slay. | |
| Thou English murdering thief! wilt have hearts for thy prey. | 50 |
| The name of Murderer now on thy fair forehead sitteth. | |
| And even while I do speak, my death wounds bleeding be; | |
| Which, I protest, proceed from only cruel thee. | |
| Who may and will not save; murder in truth committeth. | |
| |
| But murder’s private fault seems but a toy to thee. | 55 |
| I lay then to thy charge unjustest Tyranny! | |
| If rule by force without all claim, a tyrant showeth. | |
| For thou dost lord my heart, who am not born thy slave; | |
| And which is worse, makes me most guiltless torments have. | |
| A rightful Prince by unright deeds a Tyrant groweth. | 60 |
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| Lo! you grow proud with this! For tyrants make folk bow. | |
| Of foul Rebellion then I do appeach thee now! | |
| Rebel by Nature’s laws, Rebel by law of reason. | |
| Thou sweetest subject wert born in the realm of Love; | |
| And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove. | 65 |
| No virtue merits praise, once touched with blot of treason. | |
| |
| But valiant rebels oft in fools’ mouths purchase fame. | |
| I now then stain thy white with vagabonding shame; | |
| Both Rebel to the Son and Vagrant from the Mother. | |
| For wearing VENUS’ badge, in every part of thee; | 70 |
| Unto DIANA’s train thou Runaway didst flee! | |
| Who faileth one is false, though trusty to another. | |
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| What, is not this enough? Nay, far worse cometh here. | |
| A Witch! I say thou art, though thou so fair appear. | |
| For I protest my sight never thy face enjoyeth, | 75 |
| But I in me am changed; I am alive and dead, | |
| My feet are turned to roots, my heart becometh lead. | |
| No witchcraft is so evil, as which man’s mind destroyeth. | |
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| Yet witches may repent. Thou art far worse than they. | |
| Alas! that I am forced such evil of thee to say. | 80 |
| I say thou art a Devil! though clothed in angel’s shining; | |
| For thy face tempts my soul to leave the heavens for thee, | |
| And thy words of refuse do pour even hell on me. | |
| Who tempt, and tempted plague; are Devils in true defining. | |
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| You then ungrateful Thief! you murdering Tyrant you! | 85 |
| You Rebel! Runaway! to Lord and Lady untrue. | |
| You Witch! you Devil! Alas, you still of me beloved! | |
| You see what I can say. Mend yet your froward mind! | |
| And such skill in my Muse you, reconciled, shall find; | |
| That by these cruel words, your praises shall be proved. | 90 |
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