If it be true that our immortall spright
Deriude from heauenly pure, in wandring still
In noueltie and strangenesse doth delight,
And by discouerent power discerneth ill;
And if the body, for to worke his best,

Doth with the seasons change his place of rest.

Whence comes it that (inforst by furious skies)
I change both place and soyle, but not my hart?
Yet salue not in this change my maladies?
Whence growes it that each object workes my smart?
Alas, I see my faith procures my misse,
And change in loue against my nature is.
Et florida pungunt.

SONETTO.

BY PHOEBE.

My boate doth passe the straights

Of seas incenst with fire,
Filde with forgetfulnesse:
Amidst the Winter's night,
A blind and carelesse boy
(Brought vp by fond desire)
Doth guide me in the sea

Of sorrow and despight.

For euery oare, he sets

A ranke of foolish thoughts,
And cuts (instead of waue)
A hope without distresse :
The winds of my deepe sighes

(That thunder still for noughts) Haue split my sayles with feare, With care and heauinesse.

A mightie storme of teares,
A blacke and hideous cloude,
A thousand fierce disdaines
Doe slacke the haleyards oft:
Till ignorance doe pull,

And errour hale the shrowds,
No starre for safetie shines,

No Phoebe from aloft.

Time hath subdued art, and ioy is slaue to woe: Alas (Loue's guid), be kind, what shall I perish so?

MONTANUS' FIRST SONNET.

ALAS, how wander I amidst these woods,
Whereas no day bright shine doth finde accesse:
But where the melancholy fleeting floods
(Darke as the night) my night of woes expresse,
Disarmde of reason, spoilde of Nature's goods,
Without redresse, to salue my heauinesse.

I walke, whilest thought (too cruel to my harmes)
With endlesse griefe my heedles iudgment charmes.

My silent tongue assailde by secret feare,
My traitrous eyes imprisoned in their ioy,
My fatall peace deuourd in fained cheare,
My heart inforst to harbour in annoy,
My reason robde of power by yeelding care,
My fond opinions slaue to euery toy;

Oh, Loue, thou guide in my vncertaine way,
Woe to thy bow, thy fire, the cause of my decay.
Et florida pungunt.

MONTANUS' SECOND SONNET.

WHEN the Dog

Full of rage,

With his irefull eyes

Frownes amidst the skies,

The shepheard to asswage

The fury of the heat,

Himselfe doth safely seat,

By a fount

Full of faire,

Where a gentle breath

(Mounting from beneath)

Tempreth the aire.

. There his flocks

Drinke their fill,

And with ease repose

Whilest sweet sleep doth close

Eyes from toylsome ill.

But I burne

Without rest,

No defensiue power

Shields from Phoebe's lower:

Sorrow is my best.

Gentle Loue

Lowre no more,

If thou wilt inuade,

In the secret shade,

Labour not so sore.

I my selfe

And my flocks

They their loue to please,

I myself to ease,

Both leaue the shadie oakes:
Content to burne in fire

* Saith Loue, doth so desire.

Et florida pungunt.

CORIDON'S SONG.

A BLYTH and bonny country lasse,
Heigh-ho the bonny lasse:

Sate sighing on the tender grasse,

And weeping said, will none come woo mee?

* Sith?

A smicker boy, a lyther swaine,

Heigh-ho a smicker swaine;

That in his loue was wanton faine,

With smiling looks straight came vnto her.

When as the wanton wench espide,

Heigh-ho, when she espide

The meanes to make her selfe a bride,
She simpred smooth like bonny bell:
The swaine that saw her squint-eied kind,
Heigh-ho, squint-eyed kind,

His armes about her body twind;

And, faire lasse, how faire ye, well?

The country kit said, well forsooth,
Heigh-ho, well forsooth,

But that I haue a longing tooth,

A longing tooth that makes me crie:
Alas, said he, what garres thy griefe?
Heigh-ho, what garres thy griefe?
A wound, quoth she, without releife,
I feare a maid that I shall die.

If that be all, the shepheard said,
Heigh-ho, the shepheard said,

Ile make thee winne it gentle mayd,
And so recure thy maladie.