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DICK。 Hear then； and learn to sigh： a mistress I do serve； Whose wages make me beg the more； who feeds me till I starve； Whose livery is such； as most I freeze apparelled most； And looks so near unto my cure； that I must needs be lost。
WILL。 What？ These are riddles sure： art thou then bound to her？
DICK。 Bound as I neither power have； nor would have power； to stir。
WILL。 Who bound thee？
DICK。 Love； my lord。
WILL。 What witnesses thereto？
DICK。 Faith in myself； and Worth in her； which no proof can undo。
WILL。 What seal？
DICK。 My heart deep graven。
WILL。 Who made the band so fast？
DICK。 Wonder that； by two so black eyes the glitt'ring stars be past。
WILL。 What keepeth safe thy band？
DICK。 Remembrance is the chest Lock'd fast with knowing that she is of worldly things the best。
WILL。 Thou late of wages plain'dst： what wages may'sh thou have？
DICK。 Her heavenly looks； which more and more do give me cause to crave。
WILL。 If wages make you want； what food is that she gives？
DICK。 Tear's drink； sorrow's meat； wherewith not I； but in me my death lives。
WILL。 What living get you then？
DICK。 Disdain； but just disdain； So have I cause myself to plain； but no cause to complain。
WILL。 What care takes she for thee？
DICK。 Her care is to prevent My freedom； with show of her beams； with virtue； my content。
WILL。 God shield us from such dames！ If so our dames be sped； The shepherds will grow lean I trow； their sheep will be ill…fed。 But Dick； my counsel mark： run from the place of woo： The arrow being shot from far doth give the smaller blow。
DICK。 Good Will； I cannot take thy good advice； before That foxes leave to steal； they find they die therefore。
WILL。 Then； Dick； let us go hence lest we great folks annoy： For nothing can more tedious be than plaint in time of joy。
DICK。 Oh hence！ O cruel word！ which even dogs do hate： But hence； even hence； I must needs go； such is my dogged fate。
POEM： SONG
To the tune of 〃Wilhelmus van Nassau；〃 &c。
Who hath his fancy pleased； With fruits of happy sight； Let here his eyes be raised On Nature's sweetest light； A light which doth dissever； And yet unite the eyes； A light which； dying； never Is cause the looker dies。
She never dies； but lasteth In life of lover's heart； He ever dies that wasteth In love his chiefest part。 Thus is her life still guarded； In never dying faith； Thus is his death rewarded； Since she lives in his death。
Look then and die； the pleasure Doth answer well the pain； Small loss of mortal treasure； Who may immortal gain。 Immortal be her graces； Immortal is her mind； They； fit for heavenly places； This heaven in it doth bind。
But eyes these beauties see not； Nor sense that grace descries； Yet eyes deprived be not From sight of her fair eyes： Which； as of inward glory They are the outward seal； So may they live still sorry； Which die not in that weal。
But who hath fancies pleased； With fruits of happy sight； Let here his eyes be raised On Nature's sweetest light。
POEM： THE SMOKES OF MELANCHOLY
I。
Who hath e'er felt the change of love； And known those pangs that losers prove； May paint my face without seeing me； And write the state how my fancies be； The loathsome buds grown on Sorrow's tree。
But who by hearsay speaks； and hath not fully felt What kind of fires they be in which those spirits melt； Shall guess； and fail； what doth displease； Feeling my pulse； miss my disease。
II。
O no！ O no！ trial only shows The bitter juice of forsaken woes； Where former bliss； present evils do stain； Nay； former bliss adds to present pain； While remembrance doth both states contain。 Come； learners； then to me； the model of mishap； Ingulphed in despair； slid down from Fortune's lap； And； as you like my double lot； Tread in my steps； or follow not。
III。
For me； alas！ I am full resolved Those bands； alas！ shall not be dissolved； Nor break my word； though reward come late； Nor fail my faith in my failing fate； Nor change in change； though change change my state：
But always own myself； with eagle…eyed Truth； to fly Up to the sun； although the sun my wings do fry； For if those flames burn my desire； Yet shall I die in Phoenix' fire。
POEM： ODE
When； to my deadly pleasure； When to my lively torment； Lady； mine eyes remained Joined； alas！ to your beams。
With violence of heavenly Beauty； tied to virtue； Reason abashed retired； Gladly my senses yielded。
Gladly my senses yielding； Thus to betray my heart's fort； Left me devoid of all life。
They to the beamy suns went； Where； by the death of all deaths； Find to what harm they hastened。
Like to the silly Sylvan； Burned by the light he best liked； When with a fire he first met。
Yet； yet； a life to their death； Lady you have reserved； Lady the life of all love。
For though my sense be from me； And I be dead； who want sense； Yet do we both live in you。
Turned anew； by your means； Unto the flower that aye turns； As you； alas！ my sun bends。
Thus do I fall to rise thus； Thus do I die to live thus； Changed to a change； I change not。
Thus may I not be from you； Thus be my senses on you； Thus what I think is of you； Thus what I seek is in you； All what I am； it is you。
POEM： VERSES
To the tune of a Neapolitan song； which beginneth； 〃No； no； no； no。〃
No； no； no； no； I cannot hate my foe； Although with cruel fire； First thrown on my desire； She sacks my rendered sprite； For so fair a flame embraces All the places； Where that heat of all heats springeth； That it bringeth To my dying heart some pleasure； Since his treasure Burneth bright in fairest light。 No； no； no； no。
No； no； no； no； I cannot hate my foe； Although with cruel fire； First thrown on my desire； She sacks my rendered sprite； Since our lives be not immortal； But to mortal Fetters tied； do wait the hour Of death's power； They have no cause to be sorry Who with glory End the way； where all men stay。 No； no； no； no。
No； no； no； no； I cannot hate my foe； Although with cruel fire； First thrown on my desire； She sacks my rendered sprite； No man doubts； whom beauty killeth； Fair death feeleth； And in whom fair death proceedeth； Glory breedeth： So that I； in her beams dying； Glory trying； Though in pain； cannot complain。 No； no； no； no。
POEM： SONG
To the tune of a Neapolitan Villanel。
All my sense thy sweetness gained； Thy fair hair my heart enchained； My poor reason thy words moved； So that thee； like heaven； I loved。
Fa； la； la； leridan； dan； dan； dan； deridan： Dan； dan； dan； deridan； deridan； dei： While to my mind the outside stood； For messenger of inward good。
Nor thy sweetness sour is deemed； Thy hair not worth a hair esteemed； Reason hath thy words removed； Finding that but words they proved。
Fa； la； la； leridan； dan； dan； dan； deridan； Dan； dan； dan； deridan； deridan； dei： For no fair sign can credit win； If that the substance fail within。
No more in thy sweetness glory； For thy knitting hair be sorry； Use thy words but to bewail thee That no more thy beams avail thee； Dan； dan； Dan； dan； Lay not thy colours more to view； Without the picture be found true。
Woe to me； alas； she weepeth！ Fool！ in me what folly creepeth？ Was I to blaspheme enraged； Where my soul I have engaged？ Dan； dan； Dan； dan； And wretched I must yield to this； The fault I blame her chasteness is。
Sweetness！ sweetly pardon folly； Tie me； hair； your captive wholly： Words！ O words of heavenly knowledge！ Know； my words their faults acknowledge； Dan； dan； Dan； dan； And all my life I will confess； The less I love； I live the less。
POEM： TRANSLATION
From 〃La Diana de Monte…Mayor；〃 in Spanish： where Sireno； a shepherd； whose mistress Diana had utterly forsaken him； pulling out a little of her hair； wrapped about with green silk； to the hair he thus bewailed himself。
What changes here； O hair； I see； since I saw you！ How ill fits you this green to wear； For hope； the colour due！ Indeed； I well did hope； Though hope were mixed with fear； No other shepherd should have scope Once to approach this hair。
Ah hair！ how many days My Dian made me show； With thousand pretty childish plays； If I ware you or no： Alas； how oft with tears； … O tears of guileful breast！ … She seemed full of jealous fears； Whereat I did but jest。
Tell me； O hair of gold； If I then faulty be； That trust those killing eyes I would； Since they did warrant me？ Have you not seen her mood； What streams of tears she spent； 'Till that I sware my faith so stood； As her words had it bent？
Who hath such beauty seen In one that changeth so？ Or where one's love so constant been； Who ever saw such woe？ Ah； hair！ are you not grieved To come from whence you be； Seeing how once you saw I lived； To see me as you see？
On sandy bank of late； I saw this woman sit； Where； 〃Sooner die than change my state；〃 She with her finger writ： Thus my belief was staid； Behold Love's mighty hand On things were by a woman said； And written in the sand。
The same Sireno in 〃Monte…Mayor；〃 holding his mistress's glass before her； and looking upon her while she viewed herself； thus sang：…
Of this high grace； with bliss conjoine