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Whilst that she (O cruel maid)

Doth me and my love despise,

My life's flourish is decay'd, FOURTH SONG OF THE CHORUS.

That depended on her eyes :

But her will must be obey'd,

And well he ends, for love who dies.


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And with the thought of actions past

With innocent and plain simplicity: Are recreated still:

And living here ander the awful hand When pleasure leaves a touch at last

Of discipline and strict observancy,
To show that it was ill

Learn but our weaknesses to understand.
And therefore dare not enterprise to show

In lower style the hidden mysteries,
That doth opinion only cause,

And arts of thrones, which none that are below That 's out of custom bred;

The sphere of action, and the exercise Which makes us many other laws,

Of power, can truly show; thongh men may strain Than ever Nature did.

Conceit above the pitch where it should stand, No widows wail for our delights,

And form more monst'rous figures than contain Our sports are without blood;

A possibility, and go beyond The world we see by warlike wights

The nature of those managements so far,

As oft their common decency they mar: Receives more hurt than good.

Whereby the populace (in which such skill

Is needless) may be brought to apprehend

Notions, that may turn all to a taste of ill
But yet the state of things require

Whatever power shall do, or might intend : These motions of unrest,

And think all cunning, all proceeding one, And these great spirits of high desire

And nothing simple, and sincerely done: Seem born to turn them best :

Yet th' eye of practice, looking down from high To purge the mischiefs, that increase,

Upon such over-reaching vanity, And all good order mar:

Sees how from errour to errour it doth float, for oft we see a wicked peace,

As from an unknown ocean into a gulf:
To be well chang'd for war.

And how though th' wolf would counterfeit the goat,
Yet every cbink bewrays him for a wolf.

And therefore in the view of state t' have show'd Well, well, Ulysses, then I see

A counterfeit of state, had been to light I shall not have thee here;

A candle to the Sun, and so bestow'd And therefore I will coine to thee,

Our pains to bring our dimness unto light. And take my fortune there.

For majesty and power can nothing see I must be won that cannot win,

Without itself, that can sight-worthy be. Yet lost were I not won ;

And therefore durst not we but on the ground, For beauty hath created been

From whence our humble argument hath birth, Tundo or be undone.

Erect our scene, and thereon are we found,
And if we fall, we fall but on the earth, (bring;
From whence we pluck'd the flow'rs that here we

Which if at their first opening they did please,

It was enough, they serve but for a spring,
The first scent is the best in things as these:
A music of this nature on the ground,

Is ever wont to vanish with the sound.

But yet your royal goodness may raise new,

Grace but the Muses, they will honour you.

Chi non fa, non falla.






GUST, 1605.


DESERT, Reward, and Gratitude,

The graces of society,

Do here with hand in hand conclude

The blessed chain of amity :
That which their zeal, whose only zeal was bent
To show the best they could that inight delight,

For we deserve, we give, we thank,
Your royal mind, did lately represent,

Thanks, gifts, deserts, thus join in rank. Renown'd empress, to your princely sight :

We yield the splendent rays of light, Is now the offering of their humbleness,

Unto these blessings that descend : Here consecrated to your glorious name;

The grace whereof with more delight, Whose happy presence did vouchsafe to bless

T'he well disposing doth commend;
So poor presentments, and to grace the same.

Whilst gratitude, rewards, deserts,
And though it be in th' humblest rank of words, Please, win, draw on, and couple hearts.
And in the lowest region of our speech,
Yet is it in that kind, as best accords

For worth, and power, and due respect,
With rural passions, which use not to reach

Deserves, bestows, returns with grace :
Beyond the groves, and woods, where they were bred: The meed, reward, the kind affect,
And best become a cloistral exercise,

That give the world a cheerful face,
Where men shut out retir’d, and sequester'd And turning in this course of right,
From public fashion, seem to sympatbise

Make virtue move with true delight.



Now when so many pens (like spears) are charg'd

To chase away this tyrant of the north,
Gross Barbarism, whose pow'r grown far enlarg’d,
Was lately by thy valiant brother's worth
First found, encounter'd, and provoked forth:

Whose onset made the rest audacious,
WHILST worth with honour make their choice

Whereby they likewise have so well discharg'd For measur'd notions order'd right,

Upon that hideous beast encroaching thus.
Now let us likewise give a voice,
Unto the touch of our delight.

And now must I with that poor strength I have

Resist so foul a foe in what I may: For comforts lock'd up without sound,

And arın against oblivion and the grave, Are th' unborn children of the thought:

That else in darkness carries all away, Like unto treasures never found,

And makes of all an universal prey ; That buried low are left forgot.

So that if by my pen procure I shall,

But to defend me, and my name to save, Where words our glory doth not show,

Then thongh I die, I cannot yet die all. (There) like brave actions without fame : It seems as plants not set to grow,

But still the better part of me will live,
Or as a tomb without a name.

And in that part will live thy rev'rend name,
Although thyself dost far more glory give
Unto thyself, than I can by the same,

Who dost with thine own hand a bulwark frame

Against these monsters, (enemies of honour)
Which evermore shall so defend thy fame,

As time or they shall never prey upon her.
THE TRAGEDY OF CLEOPATRA. Those hymns which thou dost consecrate to Heav'n,

Which Israel's singer to his God did frame,

Unto thy voice eternity hath given, [came; TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LADY MARY, COUNTESS And makes thee dear to him from whence they OF PEMBROKE.

In them must rest thy venerable name,

So long as Sion's God remaineth honoured ; Lo! here the labour which she did impose,

And till confusion hath all zeal bereaven,
Whose influence did predominate my Muse,

And murther'd faith, and temples ruined.
The star of wonder my desires first chose,
To guide their travels in the course I use :

By this (great lady) thou must then be known, She, whose clear brightness had the power t’ infuse When Wilton lies low levell’d with the ground: Strength to my thoughts, from whence these mo

And this is that which thou may'st call thine owa, tions came, Call'd up iny spirits from out their low repose,

Which sacrilegious time cannot confound.

Here thou surviv'st thyself, here thou art found To sing of state, and tragic notes to frame.

Of late succeeding ages, fresh in fame:

This monument cannot be overthrown,
I who (contented with an humble song)

Where, in eternal brass, remains thy name.
Made music to myself that pleas'd me best,
And only told of Delia, and her wrong,

O that the ocean did not bound our style
And prais'd her eyes, and plain'd mine own unrest :

Within these strict and narrow limits so; (A text from whence my Muse had not digress'd)

But that the melody of our sweet isle Madam, had not thy well-grac'd Antony

Might now be heard to Tyber, Arne, and Po: (Who all alone having remained long)

That they might know how far Thames doth out-go Requird bis Cleopatra's company.

The music of declined Italy ;
And list'ning to our songs another while,

Might learn of thee their notes to purify.
Who if she here do so appear in act,
That he can scarce discern her for his queen, O why may not some after-coming hand
Finding how much she of herself hath lack'd, Unlock these limits, open our confines,
And missá that grace wherein she should be seen, And break asunder this imprisoning band,
Her worth obscur'd, her spirit embased clean; T' enlarge our spirits, and publish our desigus;
Yet lightning thou by thy sweet cheerfulness Planting our roses on the Apenines ?
My dark defects, which from her powers detract, And to teach Rheyne, the Loyre, and Rhodanus,
He may her guess by some resemblances.

Our accents, and the wonders of our land,

That they might all admire and honour as. And I hereafter in another kind,

Whereby great Sidney and our Spencer might, More suiting to the nature of my vein,

With those Po singers being equalled, May peradventure raise my humble mind Enchant the world with such a sweet delight, To other music in this higher strain;

That their eternal songs (for ever read) Since I perceive the world and thou dost deign May show what great Eliza's reign hath bred. To countenance my song, and cherish me,

What music in the kingdom of her peace I must so work posterity may find,

Hath now been made to her, and by her might, My love to verse, my gratitude to thee.

Whereby her glorious fame shall never cease.

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But if that Fortune doth deny us this,

The bed of Sin reveald,

[ceald Then Neptune lock up with thy ocean key And all the luxury tbat Shame would have conThis treasure to ourselves, and let them miss Of so sweet riches: as unworthy they

The scene is broken down, To taste the great delights that we enjoy.

And all uncover'd lies, And let our harmony, so pleasing grown,

The purple actors known Content ourselves, whose errour ever is

Scarce men, whom men despise. Strange notes to like, and disesteem our own.

The complots of the wise,

Prove imperfections smok'd: But, whither do my vows transport me now,

And all what wonder gave Without the compass of my course enjoin'd?,

To pleasure-gazing eyes, Alas! what honour can a voice so low

Lies scatter'd, dash'd, all broke. As this of mine expect hereby to find ?

Thus much beguiled have
But, madam, this doth animate my mind,

Poor unconsiderate wights,
That yet I shall be read among the rest,
And though I do not to perfection grow,

These momentary pleasures, fugitive delights. Yet something shall I be, though not the best.




BEHOLD what furies still
Torment their tortur'd breast,
Who by their doing ill
Have wrought the world's unrest.

Which when being most distress'd,
Yet more to vex their sprite,
The hideous face of sin,
(In forms they must detest)
Stands ever in their sight.
Their conscience still within
Th' eternal larum is,
That ever-barking dog, that calls upon their miss.
No means at all to hide,
Man for himself can find :
No way to start aside
Out from the hell of mind.

But in himself confind,
He still sees Sin before;
And winged-footed Pain,
That swiftly coines behind.
The which is evermore
The sure and certain gain
Impiety doth get,
And wanton loose Respect, that doth itself forget.
And Cleopatra nuw
Well sees the dangerous way
She took, and car'd not how,
Which led her to decay.'

And likewise makes us pay
Por her disorder'd lust
The int'rest of our blood,
Or live a servile prey
Under a hand unjust,
As others shall think good.
This hath a riot wou;.
And thus she hath her state, herself, and us andone.
Now every mouth can tell,
What close was muttered:
How that she did not well,
To take the course she did.

For now is nothing hid,
Of what fear did restrain.
No secret closely done,
But now is uttered.
The text is made most plain
That Battery gloss'd upon,

Oersion, how dost thou molest

Th' affected mind of restless man?
Who following thee never can,

Nor ever shall attain to rest,
Forgetting what thou say'st is best;

Yet lo! that best he finds far wide
Of what thou promised'st before:
For in the same he look'd for more,

Which proves but small, when once 't is try'd.
Then something else thou find'st beside,

To draw him still from thought to thought:
When in the end all proves but nought.
Further from rest he finds him then,

Than at the first when he began.
O malecontent, seducing guest,

Contriver of our greatest woes,
Which born of wind, and fed with shows,

Dost nurse thyself in thine unrest,
Judging ungotten things the best,

Or what thou in conceit design'st,
And all things in the world dost deem
Not as they are, but as they seem :

Which shows their state thou ill defin'st:
And liv'st to come, in present pin'st.

For wbat thou hast, thou still dost lack :
O mind's tormentor, body's rack,
Vain promiser of that sweet rest
Which never any yet possess'd.

If we unto ambition tend,

Then dost thou draw our weakness on,
With vain imagination

Of that which never bath an end.
Or if that lust we apprehend,

How doth that pleasant plague infest?
O what strange forms of luxury,
Thou straight dost cast tentice us by ?

And tellist us that is ever best,
Which we have never yet possess'd,

And that more pleasure rests beside,
In something that we have not try'd :
And when the same likewise is bad,
Then all is one, and all is bad.

This Antony can say is true,

And Cleopatra knows 't is so,
By th' experience of their woe.

She can say, she never knew
But that lust found pleasures new,

And was never satisfyld:

But is it justice that all we, He can say by proof of toil,

The innocent poor multitude, Ambition is a vulture vile,

For great men's faults should punish'd be, That feeds upon the heart of pride,

And to destruction thus pursu'd ? And finds no rest when all is try'd.

O why should th' Heavens us include, For worlds cannot confine the one;

Within the compass of their fall, Th’ other lists and bounds hath none;

Who'of themselves procured all ? And both subvert the mind, the state,

Or do the gods (in close) decree, Procure destruction, envy, hate.

Occasion take how to extrude

Man from the Earth with cruelty ? And now when all this is prov'd vain,

Ab no, the gods are ever just, Yet opinion leaves not here,

Our faults excuse their rigour must, But sticks to Cleopatra near, Persuading now, how she shall gain

This is the period fate set down, Honour by death, and fame attain,

To Egypt's fat prosperity : And what a shame it was to live,

Which now unto her greatest grown, Her kingdom lost, her lover dead :

Must perish thus, by course must die, And so with this persuasion led,

And some must be the causers why Despair doth such a courage give,

This revolution must be wrought; That nought else can her mind relieve,

As born to bring their state to nought: Nor yet divert her from that thought:

To change the people and the crown, To this conclusion all is brought.

And purge the world's iniquity : This is that rest this vain world lends,

Which vice so far hath overgrown,
To end in death, that all things ends.

As we, so they that treat us thus,
Must one day perish like to us.





O fearful frowning Nemisis,

Daughter of Justice most severe,
That art the world's great arbitress,
And queen of causes reigning here:
Whose swift sure hand is ever near

Eternal Justice, righting wrong:
Who never yet deferrest long

The prouds' decay, the weaks' redress:
But through thy power every where,

Dost raze the great, and raise the less;
The less made great doth ruin tou,
To show the Earth what Heaven can do.

Mysterious Egypt, wonder-breeder,

Strict religion's strange observer,
State-orderer Zeal, the best rule-keeper,

Fost'ring still intemp'rate feryour :
O how cam'st thou to lose so wholly

All religion, law, and order?
And thus become the most unholy

Of all lands, that Nilus border?
How could confus'd Disorder enter

Where stern Law sat so severely?
How durst weak Lust and Riot venture

Th' eye of Justice looking nearly?
Could not those means that made thee great,
Be still the means to keep thy state?

Thou from dark-clos'd eternity,

From thy black cloudy hidden seat,
The world's disorders dost descry:

Which when they swell so proudly great,
Reversing th’ order Nature set,

Thou giv'st thy all-confounding doom,
Which none can know before it come.

Th’inevitable destiny,
Which neither wit nor strength can let,

Fast chain'd unto necessity,
In mortal things doth order so,
Th' alternate course of weal or woe.

Ah no, the course of things requireth

Change and alteration ever :
That same continuance man desireth,

Th' unconstant world yieldeth never.
We in our counsels must be blinded,

And not see what doth import us:
And oftentimes the thing least minded,

Is the thing that most must hurt us.
Yet they that have the stern in guiding,

'T is their fault that should prevent it, for oft they seeing their country sliding,

Take their ease, as thonigh contented.
We imitate the greater powers,
The prince's manners fashion ours.

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O how the pow'rs of Heaven do play

With travelled mortality:
And doth their weakness still betray,

In their best prosperity!
When being lifted up so high,

They look beyond themselves so far,
That to themselves they take no cares

Whilst swift confusion down doth lay
Their late proud mounting vanity :

Bringing their glory to decay,
And with the ruin of their fall,

Extinguish people, state, and all.

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