pitie, which beleeues too soone
Mens heart void tongue-delighted passion.
Could women learne but that imperiousnesse,
By which men vse to stint our happinesse,
When they haue purchac'd vs for to be theirs
By customary sighs and forced teeres,
To giue vs bits of kindnesse lest we faint,
But no abundance; so we euer want,
And still are begging, which too well they know
Endeares affection, and doth make it grow.
Had we these sleights, how happy were we then,
That we might glory ouer loue-sicke men!
But arts we know not, nor haue any skill
To faine a sower looke to a pleasing will;
Nor couch our secretst loue in shew of hate:
But if we like, must be compassionate.
Say that thy teere-discoloured cheeke should moue
Relenting pitie and that long liu'd loue.
If ere thy faith should alter, and become
Stranger to that which now it oft hath sworne,
How were I wrapt in woe! No time to be
Would euer end my datelesse miserie.
Ay me (quoth _Philos_) what man can despise
Such amourous looks, sweet tongues, & most sweet eies?
Or who is glutted with the sight of heauen,
Where still the more we looke, the more is seene?
To the world of beauties Nature lent,
And in each beautie worlds of loues content,
Wherein delight and state moues circuler,
Pleasure being captaine to thy Hemisphere.
Say that the eie, wandring through white and red,
Long hauing viewd Loues tower, thy wel built head,
Passing those iuory walks where gentlest aire
Fannes the sweet tresses of thy scorn-gold haire,
Admiring oft those redder strawberries,
Ript by the Sun-shine of thy loue-blest eyes,
Should in this maze of pleasure, being led,
Grow weary, with much time satisfied:
Then might the eare be rapt with melodie
Surpassing farre the seuen-spheard harmonie
Deliuerd from thy pearle-enuirond tongue,
Each word being sweeter then a well tun'd song.
But for the touch, all ages that are past,
And times to come, would steale away, and waste
Euen like a minute; and no time suffice
To melt the Louer in such rarities:
Each day would adde to other such excesse
Of Nectar-flowing sweets, that Happinesse
Would be too meane a word for to dilate
The enuied blisse of his vnequall state.
No more (quoth _Licia_) thou enough hast sayd
Fo to deceiue a sillie witted maid:
But to the God of Loue I will reueale,
How that thou keepst a tongue maids harts to steale,
Whos