A Lovers Complaint | Page 4

crooked curls;?And every light occasion of the wind?Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.?What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find:?Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind;?For on his visage was in little drawn,?What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn.
'Small show of man was yet upon his chin;?His phoenix down began but to appear,?Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin,?Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seemed to wear:?Yet show'd his visage by that cost more dear;?And nice affections wavering stood in doubt?If best were as it was, or best without.
His qualities were beauteous as his form,?For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;?Yet if men mov'd him, was he such a storm?As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,?When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.?His rudeness so with his authoriz'd youth?Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.
'Well could he ride, and often men would say?That horse his mettle from his rider takes:?Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,?What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!?And controversy hence a question takes,?Whether the horse by him became his deed,?Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.
'But quickly on this side the verdict went;?His real habitude gave life and grace?To appertainings and to ornament,?Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case,:?All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,?Came for additions; yet their purpos'd trim?Pierc'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him.
'So on the tip of his subduing tongue?All kind of arguments and question deep,?All replication prompt, and reason strong,?For his advantage still did wake and sleep:?To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,?He had the dialect and different skill,?Catching all passions in his craft of will;
'That he did in the general bosom reign?Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted,?To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain?In personal duty, following where he haunted:?Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted;?And dialogued for him what he would say,?Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.
'Many there were that did his picture get,?To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;?Like fools that in the imagination set?The goodly objects which abroad they find?Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd;?And labouring in mo pleasures to bestow them,?Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them:
'So many have, that never touch'd his hand,?Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart.?My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,?And was my own fee-simple, (not in part,)?What with his heart in youth, and youth in art,?Threw my affections in his charmed power,?Reserv'd the stalk, and gave him all my flower.
'Yet did I not, as some my equals did,?Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;?Finding myself in honour so forbid,?With safest distance I mine honour shielded:?Experience for me many bulwarks builded?Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil?Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
'But ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent?The destin'd ill she must herself assay??Or force'd examples, 'gainst her own content,?To put the by-pass'd perils in her way??Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;?For when we rage, advice is often seen?By blunting us to make our wills more keen.
'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,?That we must curb it upon others' proof,?To be forbod the sweets that seems so good,?For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.?O appetite, from judgement stand aloof!?The one a palate hath that needs will taste,?Though reason weep, and cry It is thy last.
'For further I could say, This man's untrue,?And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;?Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew,?Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;?Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;?Thought characters and words, merely but art,?And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.
'And long upon these terms I held my city,?Till thus he 'gan besiege me: Gentle maid,?Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,?And be not of my holy vows afraid:?That's to you sworn, to none was ever said;?For feasts of love I have been call'd unto,?Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo.
'All my offences that abroad you see?Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;?Love made them not; with acture they may be,?Where neither party is nor true nor kind:?They sought their shame that so their shame did find;?And so much less of shame in me remains,?By how much of me their reproach contains.
'Among the many that mine eyes have seen,?Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd,?Or my affection put to the smallest teen,?Or any of my leisures ever charm'd:?Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed;?Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,?And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy.
'Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me,?Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;?Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me?Of grief and blushes, aptly understood?In bloodless white