FRENCH COVRT-AIRES, With their Ditties Englished, Of foure and fiue Parts.

TOGETHER WITH THAT OF THE LƲTE.

— Si propiùs stes,
Te capient magis, & decies repetita placebunt.

Collected, Translated, Published By ED: FILMER, Gent: Dedicated to the Queene.

— Gratia Regum
Pierijs tentata modis; ne forte pudori
Sit mihi Musa lyrae solers, & cantor Apollo.
‘FOR THOV SHALT LABOR’

PEACE

PLENTIE

LONDON, Printed by William Stansby. 1629.

Cum Priuilegio.

‘HONI SOIT QVI MAL Y PENSE’

TO THE QƲEENE.

MADAME,

O Ʋt of a Ciuill regard and speciall care not to wrong Strangers, I haue attempted to furnish these Forraine Compositions with afor­tune equall to what they had at Home. Courtiers they were borne, (as being begot of purpose to serue in those Chambers where your Maiestie had your high Beginning) and, in that Quality, haue bee'n committed, by their first Publishers, to the Tutelarie Shadow of the most Crowned Branches of your thrice-Christian Stemme. My wishes are that they may not suffer in their Condition by meanes of my good Opinion of them, which hath made mee Studie to make them Denisons of mine owne Countrie. And therefore, to preserue them in their first Degree and Safetie, I haue thought meet to Arme them with the Maiesticke Patronage of a Queene of their former Acquaintance, and of a fortune somewhat resembling their owne; who hauing nobly Fauoured them in the time of their greatest Securitie amongst their Naturall and Potent friends at home, will, as is humbly hoped, resolutely vndertake to Protect them now, in the time of Need, from the Affronts and Dangers incident to the life of Aliens, and vouchsafe them (being now as it we Naturaliz'd for her owne Subiects, and taught the Language wherein by her nearest People shee is pray'd for) a more Princely measure of Countenance and Affection, then formerly, when shee could not call them hers by so Soueraine an interest. Heerein, Sacred Ladie, if it may please you, in their behalfe, to Seale with an indulgent Eye the Grant of this my first Court-sute, they shall bee so farre from needing to enuie the Domesticke Estate of their more incommunicable Kindred left behind them, that rather it may bee presaged that the fame of their new happinesse heere abroad, will awake and stirre vp some of the great Remnant of their Courtly Race to craue the Conduct of some second and more able Guide to put them in the way for the like Outlandish Adventure. This, and greater Miracles, your Grace may easily effect with the least Musicall Honour daigned at any time by your incomparable Voice vnto these your first-Deuoted. The most harmonious Rectour of the immortall Quire instruct and perfit your Highnesse for the bearing of a Ce­lestiall Part in the euerlasting Hallelu- IAH. So prayeth,

Madame,
YOƲR MAIESTIES Thrice-humble, and thrice-obedient Subiect EDWARD FILMER.

THE PREFACE.

THough, in the highest times of the most Imperiall Citie of the World, Literature and Musicke were counted the two Mentall Touchstones of a Gentleman (for Wrast­ling was held but a Corporall one, and therefore, by the Comicke reciting the parts fit for a Gentleman, put in the last place: Fac periculum in Literis, in Mu­sicis, in Palaestra) yet sole Scholler or Musician, vnlesse eleuated by Academicall Degrees, are held now but Lowe and Illiberall Conditions. So that a Nihilegregiè, or a Nequid nimis is that which preserues such, as are hereunto addicted, in a freedome requisite to Gentilitie, which ought to bee Slaue neither to Booke nor Fiddle. Farre therefore from a desire of testifying that my endeuours in these kinds haue soared aboue the pitch of mediocritie, I here expose to the vsers of my Naturall Tongue this small Labour, as whereby may onely be discouered a Gentle tincture of my mind in either, but a Deep die in neither of the fore-named Qualities. For, touching the Musicall part of this Booke, I haue onely exercised my Iudicatiue strength in the Choice and Collection of the Aires, which is not sufficient to raise on a man the surname of Musician: and, for the Literature or Poetrie of the Ditties, I haue no more then new-colour'd their Forme, by chan­ging their Language, I haue not inuented the subiect, or Made the matter; wherein consists the maine Essence of a Poet, as being the Worke from whence he receiues more properly his De­nomination [...] τὸ Ποιεῖν, then from the Making of a Verse. In so much that hee that traceth a Chronicle sincerely, without any fabulous mixture, may rather be called a Versifying Historian, then a Poet; as not sufficiently shaping himselfe to the fashion of the great and ancient Masters of the Art, that first set-vp the name of Poet. — Pictoribus at (que) Poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas; neither of them being tied to the Patterne of Truth, but left free to the Reach of Inuention. Nor doe I here labour to shift-of, as ignominious, the gracefull Titles of Poet or Musi­cian, which Persons farre higher then my selfe haue accepted-of as Ornaments to their other Merits; my purpose being onely to acknowledge, that my sparing diligences and few retir'd houres employ'd these Wayes haue in no wise effected, that I may, without vanitie, either sue for, or admit-of these Names, that I vnfainedly gratulate to such as haue purchased them with Surpassing Desert. — mediocribus esse Poetis Non homines, non Dij, non concessere columnae.

Now, for the Worke its selfe, whereunto the Muses haue bee'n assistant with their double Skill (which the two-topp'd Mountaine they inhabit may bee thought to point-at) I meane Musicke and Poetrie, as I confesse that I haue bee'n, generally, more taken with the Musicall part then the Poeticall; so I acknowledge to haue tied my selfe more strictly to the presentation thereof (without swaruing from the first publish'd Copie either in flourish or substance) then of the Other; wherein I haue, sometime, suffered as well my Fant'sie as Reason to thrust mee a little from a punctuall insisting in the Steps of the Originall: vpon what Motiues (or perad­uenture Necessitie) I leaue to the likely coniectures of the judicious Comparer to find-out; hauing held it more workemanlike, vpon well-taken occasions, by a justifiable varying from the Phrase, without losse of the Plot and Scope of the Author, so to translate, that the Trans­later may be said to haue some little share in the Apparell and Dresse, though not in the Bo­die, of the worke, then (with a Schoole-boyes resolution) to dare to aime no further then at such an interpretation, as may render the most exact account, that may bee, of the Syntax of the Originall. Indeed, where Poems are chosen to bee translated for no other respect then for their owne eminent and know'n worth, it can sauour of no lesse then presuming selfe-conceit to straine, with new Flashes, to out-shine the primitiue Beames of the Originall; or to intimate a waterish vnsauorinesse in the translated Matter, by sprinkling the Translation with frequent Graines of the Translaters peculiar Salt. But, where Lines are not so much turned into ano­ther Language for their owne, as for the Musickes sake that they belong-to and (in a manner) serue, I cannot absolutely conclude, but that the Translat [...] may, without the blot of inso­lence, carrie himselfe with a Looser regard to those Pieces of his Patterne that hee shall judge himselfe least Obliged vnto. — &, quae Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit.

Now, because translated Ditties and Originals differ chiefly in this Preposterous Point, that, whereas the Musicall Notes are fitted to the Originals, the Translations are, contrarily, to be fitted to the Musicall Notes, I haue bee'n forced, by this new Taske, for the more euen Accord with the Musicke, in diuers Aires, to alter the Naturall first Cast of the Verse, and to ordaine, in the proper place of an Iambicke Foot, a dissonant Trochaicke, as more sutable to the nature of the Note. For this cause, when the most busie Examiners shall, in some of the Ditties, find heere and there Iambicke Meeters that seeme to faulter in their Pace, through the vnlawfull frequen­cie of Trochaicke Motions, let them forbeare Censure, till they haue tried them with the Streame [Page] of the Aire or Note; which, though it were blamelesly enough by the Composer adapted to the French Verse, yet, now and then, fals out to make a Currant English Verse of the same Numbers to runne, as it were, against the Biasse. The reason is, because the French syllables, as well in Verse as Prose, are pronounced with a more Continu'd Equalitie of sound, then ours. For that Tongue admits seldome of any Tones or Intentions of the Voice (by Grammatians called Accents) vnlesse at the End of the Clause, or in the penultims of words ending in their c foeminine. And this their Mother-pronunciation they often apply euen to the Latine, and other acquired Tongues. From whence it is not vnlikely, that some of them, hauing bee'n ad­monished by Strangers of this their Vnrulinesse, haue not stucke to maintaine their dysprosodia (that I may so call it) or immodulation of the seuerely gouern'd Syllables of the Latine: as may appeare by that grauely-accented or rather vnaccented and indistinguish'd Piece father'd vpon them Nòs-Gàllì-nòn-cùràmùs-quàntìtàtém-syllàbàrúm; erroneously thinking that way of Pronunciation to be Common to Other Tongues, which seemes Proper to their Owne; the Nerues of whose Syllables (in Singing)-neither Crampe of vnnaturall correption, nor Racke of vnvsuall production can much Torture. Hence therefore it proceeds, that the French, when they Compose to a Dittie in their owne Language, being led rather by their free Fant'sie of Aire (wherein many of them doe naturally excell) then by any Strict and Artificiall scan­ning of the Line, by which they Build, doe often, by disproportion'd Musicall Quantities, inuert the naturall Stroke of a Verse, applying to the place of an Iambicke Foot, such Modula­tion as Iumps rather with a Trochay. And this without much violence to their Poems, since the Disorder and Confusion of metricall Feet in their Verse is as Inoffensiue as Indiscernible, by reason, as is afore-said, of the Euen Pronunciation of Their Tongue: whereas Ours, more frequent and liuely in Accenting all polysyllables, bewrayes presently to the Eare, by Our best Measure, the Accent, the Contrarietie betweene the Trochay and the Iambicke. Now therefore, when the Note, fitted for a Trochay in French, lights vpon an Iambicke in English, it strangely Wrests the relucting Syllables from their genuine Pronunciation, and changes the Friendly and Equall Conspiring, that ought to be betweene Word and Tune, into Injurious Contradiction; which vnseemely Variance often breakes forth into so lowd a Cacophonie, that, thereby, the one seemes to doe no lesse then Reuile the other. In respect whereof, the intent of this Booke being more to please the Iudicious Hearer of the Tunes, then the Criti­call Reader of the Lines, I haue chosen rather, wittingly, to tolerate a little roughnesse in the Fluencie of some of the Verses, thereby the lesse to disrellish the Musicke, then, by an ouer­curious straining to please in that Part of the worke that concernes my selfe, neglect the better Part, the prayse whereof I am farre from colour of pretending the least Right vnto. Yet herein also I dare not auouch to haue bee'n so anxious an Obseruer of the Lawes of the Note in all places, as to distemper the Verse vpon euery slight Becke thereof, but, where I haue thought the Lightnesse of the dissonancie might the most easily bee Digested by Good Eares, I haue sometimes permitted the Meeters to March forward with their most decent Steps, without Respect or Obcisance to the Musicall Measure discouer'd in the Face of the Note, to the end that the Poeticall Reader might find the lesse whereat to Trip or be Offended; hauing endeauoured, in this Doubtfull and Distracting Case, to make the Worke as little Scandalous as I could, either to the Grammaticall or Musicall Pervser.

In conclusion; that I may not too much Disproportion this small Building, by making the Porch of Preface too Bigge to correspond with the Little Roomes within, my moderate de­sires are, that my Home hearted vnaffectating Countrie-men, Fauourers and Practizers of Mu­sicke, would courteously entertaine this Recopilation as a Worke naturaliz'd chiefly for their sakes; and, whereas our Tailors Shops and Dancing-schooles haue bee'n so employ'd in French Imitations, that our more deseruing Masters of Musicke might sometimes, for pleasing No­uelties sake, daigne to repaire hither for Life of Aire worthy of their more noble Arts Emu­lation. And, as for some Rouing Spirits, whose Transitorie View of France may haue mag­nified them with the Scumme onely and Froathie top of the French Tongue, without diuing into the substantiall Depth by a more piercing diligence therein, I am patiently prouided to heare them Counterblast these my Endeauours with this Airie Position: That it is impossible that any Words but French should euer Become the Loouer Aires (though they themselues, besides vnderstanding them but to halues, pronounce them to a naturall French Eare as Mis­becomingly as euer Crude Forrainer was heard to sing an English Ballet) such is the aptnesse of halfe-digested Noueltie to breed in the Stomackes of our yong Countrie-men a Queasie de­spising of the, almost-matchlesse, Abilities of their owne Language. But, because I haue learn'd among People of sound Tasts, that, Contra Gustos no ay que disputar, There is no disputing a­gainst Tasts, I will abstaine to play the ignorant Logician by attempting to raise Arguments on a Theme held Improbable; but rather, somewhat to gratifie their depraued Palates, haue [Page] annexed the French Ditties in the end of the Booke; by the same meanes testifying, to the skilfull in both Tongues, my integritie (as farre as is formerly professed) in their Translati­ons. Hauing hazarded to breake the yce to abler pennes, whose happier facultie in this kind may hereafter incite them, with some more rich English lining of other French pieces of this Musicall stuffe, to venture-for and winne the applause of my indegenerating Countrie­men. Whose present acceptance of the homely threed here prepared to measure these first withall, shall fortifie mee against the future assaults of repentance.

E. F.

To the Musicall Vser of this Booke.

NOte that the vsuall English measure of Songs (which is commonly by Sem­briefs or Minoms) cannot be applyed to diuerse of the French Aires. Where therefore you shall find an odde Crotchet in the Aire, measure the whole Aire by Crotchets; and, where an odde Minom, by Minoms. Note also that the Tablature to each Aire hath not bee'n set by the Author of the Aire, but some of them by Gabriel Bataille, a French-man likewise. I haue therefore put his name to those Lute-parts that were not Composed by the Authors themsealues of the Aires, to the intent that each man may bee duely reputed-of according to his Deseruing. The single Letter before the beginning of the Lute-part giues the Tune that the singing Part, which is ouer it, begins-in. In those Aires, whose straines are to be sung twice ouer, you shall find the ending Note to bee twice set downe. Obserue therefore that if, in this case, the first straine be to be repeated, you sing, the first time, the first of these Notes onely; and, the second, the second onely; but, in the repetition of the last straine, you must, contrarily, sing the last Note (that stands without the barre) first, and that, which stands within the barre with the marke of Conclusion ouer the head, last. Other things (as namely the change of Time shew'n by Arith­meticall figures, or whatsoeuer else may seeme new) I suppose that such, as haue attained but to a mediocritie of Skill in Musicke, will, of themsealues, quickly conceiue.

To my worthy Friend, Master Edward Filmer, on his Worke published.

WHat charming Peales are these,
That, while they bind the senses, doe so please?
They are the Mariage-rites
Of two, the choicest Paire of Mans delights,
Musique and Poesie:
French Aire and English Verse here Wedded lie.
Who did this Knot compose,
Againe hath brought the Lillie to the Rose;
And, with their Chained dance,
Recelebrates the ioyfull Match with France.
They are a Schoole to win
The faire French Daughter to learne English in;
And, graced with her song,
To make the Language sweet vpon her tongue.
Ben: Jonson.

Cantus of 4. Parts. I. A PANEGYRIC: Sung by the Sunne, in a Masque of the Prince of Condies, to the now French Queene-Mother, at that time Regent.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Gabriel Bataille.

Adorable Princesse. [...] BRight Abstract of vs sea╌uen Wandring Torches of Hea╌uen! Earths most a╌dored Shrine! 'Tis time I leaue skie╌ run╌ning, And quit my Coach and cun╌ning, To giue thee way to shine.

Thou, vnmatch'd Beauties Treasure!
Whereby Nature doth measure
Of her strain'd skill the hight;
I thinke thee much beguiled,
That I the Sunne am stiled,
Since first I saw thy Light.
Thine Eye, mounting aboue mee,
Doth so clearely reproue mee,
Whilest I my high course keepe,
That, when Thetis last rock'd mee,
I wish that shee had lock'd mee
Ʋp with eternall sleepe.
Though my course, no where ending,
'Bout Earths whole Globe runne bending
To gild the Ball with Ray,
It sees no Weales but wunder
At France so happie vnder
Thy Scepters painefull sway.
Thy Counsels and thy Watches
Haue, by so strange Dispatches,
Her mischiefes beaten-downe,
That Angels Compositions,
Sung by themsealues Musitions,
Must publish thy Renowne.
Onely thy Prudence charmed
Kings, vnto Battell armed,
'Till their hands dropp'd their swords:
And now each wild mouth, tamed
And to thy bridle framed,
Praise to thy Lawes affords.
Thou hast shew'n the Now-liuers,
That the two iarring Riuers,
Seine and Tage can bee friends;
And mak'st Bellona grumble
To see her Demons tumble
In chaines with Hellish Fiends.
Flatt'ries best Common-places
Can not of Maries graces
The least augmenting make:
To reach her estimation
All humane speculation
In vaine doth vndertake.
Powres! in whose high assistance
France assures her resistance
Against all future harme;
Neuer, of any creature,
Did you so faire a Feature
With so much Wisedome arme.
May your Fates hinder'd paces
Grant, that old Times long races,
Which make each thing decline,
From face so perfect, neuer
May that sweete vantage seuer
It now holds aboue mine.

Tenor of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] BRight Abstract of vs seauen Wandring Torches of Heauen! Earths most adored Shrine! 'Tis time I leaue skie-running, And quit my Coach and cunning, To giue thee way to shine.

Thou, vnmatch'd Beauties Treasure!
Whereby Nature doth measure
Of her strain'd skill the hight;
I thinke thee much beguiled,
That I the Sunne am stiled,
Since first I saw thy Light.
Thine Eye, mounting aboue mee,
Doth so clearely reproue mee,
Whilest I my high course keepe,
That, when Thetis last rock'd mee,
I wish, that shee had lock'd mee
Ʋp with eternall sleepe, &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] BRight Abstract of vs sea╌uen Wandring Torches of Heauen! Earths most adored Shrine! 'Tis time I leaue skie-run╌ning, And quit my Coach and cunning, To giue thee way to shine.

Thou, vnmatch'd Beauties Treasure!
Whereby Nature doth measure
Of her strain'd skill the hight;
I thinke thee much beguiled,
That I the Sunne am stiled,
Since first I saw thy Light.
Thine Eye, mounting aboue mee,
Doth so clearely reproue mee,
Whilest I my high course keepe,
That, when Thetis last rock'd mee.
I wish that shee had lock'd mee
Ʋp with eternall sleepe. &c.

Altus of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] BRight Abstact of vs seauen Wandring Torches of Heauen! Earths most adored Shrine! 'Tis time I leaue skie-running, And quit my Coach and cunning, To giue thee way to shine.

Thou, vnmatch'd Beauties Treasure!
Whereby Nature doth measure
Of her strain'd skill the hight;
I thinke thee much beguiled,
That I the Sunne am stiled,
Since first I saw thy Light.
Thine Eye, mounting aboue mee,
Doth so clearely reproue mee,
Whilest I my high course keepe,
That, when Thetis last rock'd mee,
I wish that shee had lock'd mee
Ʋp with eternall sleepe. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. II. To Anne the French Queene, new come from Spaine, at her first meeting with the King her husband: and appliable to our Sacred MARIE, at his Maiesties first sight of her at DOVER.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Pierre Guedron.

[...]n fin, la [...]yci. [...] AT length, heere Shee is; wee haue got those bright Eies; More shines now our Earth then the Skies: And our Mars, happie in his high desire, Is all flame by this fire.

The Spheres, in so Heauenly face, neuer fix'd
High state with so meeke graces mix'd;
Which, in all hearts about it round, inspires
True respect and chast fires.
At length, Both are met; our designes Crowned are;
Each soule in the Ioy hath a share:
May, in both breasts, this Isle of Vnion giue
Onely one heart to liue.

Tenor of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] AT length, heer Shee is; Wee haue got those bright Eies; More shines now our Earth then the Skies: And our Mars, hap╌pie in his high desire, Is all flame by this fire.

The Spheres, in so Heauenly face, neuer fix'd
High state with so meeke graces mix'd;
Which, in all hearts about it round, inspires
True respect and chast fires.
At length, Both are met; our designes Crowned are;
Each soule in the Ioy hath a share:
May, in both breasts, this Isle of Vnion giue
Onely one heart to liue.

Bassus of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] AT length, heere Shee is; Wee haue got those bright Eies; More shines now our Earth then the Skies: And our Mars, happie in his high desire, Is all flame by this fire.

The Spheres, in so Heauenly face, neuer fix'd
High state with so meeke graces mix'd;
Which, in all hearts about it round, inspires
True respect and chast fires.
At length, Both are met; our designes Crowned are;
Each soule in the Ioy hath a share:
May, in both breasts, this Isle of Vnion giue
Onely one heart to liue.

Altus of 4. Parts. II.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] AT length, heere Shee is; wee haue got those bright Eies; More shines now our Earth then the Sies: And our Mars, happie in his high desire, Is all flame by this fire.

The Spheres, in so Heauenly face, neuer fix'd
High state with so meeke graces mix'd;
Which, in all hearts about it round, inspires
True respect and chast fires.
At length, Both are met; our designes Crowned are;
Each soule in the Ioy hath a share:
May, in both breasts, this Isle of Vnion giue
Onely one heart to liue.

Cantus of 4. Parts. III.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Gabriel Bataille.

Que n'estes vous lassées. [...] WHy haue my Thoughts conspi╌red, Neuer to bee tired, With doing Reason wrong? Making my Soule ac╌cu╌sed. For hauing refused. Her an╌ti╌dote so long.

Why, by vaine force of weeping,
Am I kept from sleeping?
Why ordaine not the Skies
Out of my Mind to banish
What they haue made vanish
Already from mine Eies?
Light! that keep'st all Lights vnder;
Deare adored Wunder!
How would I applaud Fate,
That deludes vs with distance,
If, by his assistance,
Death would cut-of my Date!
What poison'd stabbes of Furie
In swell'd breast endure I,
To see how Danger may
(Renting thy youth like Monster)
Thine ashes
Perperàm vel indignè con­struere.
misconster
In vrne of forraine clay!
I bind my selfe from speaking,
Though my heart lie breaking
In conflict with this Hell:
But thus I sure augment it,
Because not to vent it
Makes the fire more rebell.
My bones of flesh are stripped,
And violets, nipped
With an vntimely cold,
Or with a long drought wiped,
Of my skinne blew-striped
Doe much resemblance hold
Gods! (since the longest-aged
Spleene of Fates enraged
Turnes, from Nettle, Balme-leafe)
After so many beatings,
How can iust entreatings
Find your tribunall deafe?
Haue yee bee'n stil'd free Iudges
Of all wrongs and grudges,
That earthly stomackes feele,
To proue inexorable
When the miserable
Before your altars kneele?
I would not shew the glorie
Of my warlike storie
To the low Hemispheare;
Nor, from the deepe descending
Of the Worlds steepe ending,
More Lawrels fetch to weare.
Two sweete Eies are my wishes;
Feasts, without these dishes,
Rellish of nought but rue:
Do but, yer Famine end mee,
This Ambrosia send mee,
I am a God like you.

Tenor of 4. Parts. III.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy haue my Thoughts conspired, Neuer to bee tired, With doing Reason wrong? Making my Soule ac╌cused, For hauing refused; Her antidote so long.

Why, by vaine force of weeping,
Am I kept from sleeping?
Why ordaine not the Skies
Out of my Mind to banish
What they haue made vanish
Already from mine Eyes?
Light! that keep'st all Lights vnder;
Deare adored Wunder!
How would I applaud Fate.
That deludes vs with distance,
If, by his assistance,
Death would cut-of my Date!
What poison'd stabbes of Furie
In swell'd breast endure I,
To see how Danger may
(Renting thy youth like Monster)
Thine ashes misconster
In vrne of forraine clay! &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. III.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy haue my Thoughts conspired, Neuer to bee tired, With doing Reason wrong? Making my Soule accused, For hauing re­fused Her antidote so long,

Why, by vaine force of weeping,
Am I kept from sleeping?
Why ordaine not the Skies
Out of my Mind to banish
What they haue made vanish
Already from mine Eies!
Light! that keep'st all Lights vnder;
Deare adored Wunder!
How would I applaud Fate,
That deludes vs with distance,
If, by his assistance,
Death would cut-of my Date!
What poison'd stabbes of Furie
In swell'd breast endure I,
To see how Danger may
(Renting thy youth like Monster)
Thine ashes misconster
In vrne of forraine clay! &c.

Altus of 4. Parts: III.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy haue my Thoughts conspired, Neuer to bee tired, With doing Reason wrong? Ma╌king my Soule accused, For hauing refused Her antidote so long.

Why, by vaine force of weeping,
Am I kept from sleeping?
Why ordaine not the Skies
Out of my Mind to banish
What they haue made vanish
Already from mine Eies?
Light! that keep'st all Lights vnder;
Deare adored Wunder!
How would I applaud Fate,
That deludes vs with distance,
If, by his assistance,
Death would cut-of my Date!
What poison'd stabbes of Furie
In swell'd breast endure I,
To see how Danger may
(Renting thy youth like Monster)
Thine ashes misconster
In vrne of forraine clay! &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. IIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Gabriel Bataille.

[...] grands [...]ieux, que [...] charmes! [...] O! What muster of glances (Cupids troope of Lances!) What fires! and what darts! darts. O! What spark╌ling dres╌ses! What catching tresses! What tempting arts!

In this Maze, to conduct vs,
The Skie doth instruct vs
With directiue light:
And two chiefe Sunnes faces
Our troubled paces
Dispose aright.
The time now doth require vs
From hence to retire vs,
And lay-by our Lutes:
Night, made day by watches,
With Louers matches
Vnkindly sutes.
And, loe! the admir'd glorie
Of our ages storie,
Nurse of all our hopes,
Shines, to our amazement,
From yonder cazement,
Which now shee opes.
Yee Beauties! (by whose flashes
No soules burne to ashes,
But flame night and day)
Grace, with faire reflection,
Our best affection
Shew'n this new way.

Tenor of 4. Parts. IIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] O! What muster, &c. O! what muster of glances (Cupids troope of Lances!) What fires! and what darts! O! what sparkling dresses! What catching tresses! What tempting arts.

In this Maze, to conduct vs,
The Skie doth instruct vs
With directiue light▪
And two chiefe Sunnes faces
Our troubled paces
Dispose aright.
The time now doth require vs
From hence to retire vs,
And lay-by our Lutes:
Night, made day by watches,
With Louers matches
Vnkindly sutes. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. IIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] O! what muster of glances (Cupids troope of Lances!) What fires! and what darts! darts. O! what sparkling dresses! What catching tresses! What tempting arts!

In this Maze; to conduct vs,
The Skie doth instruct vs
With directiue light:
And two chiefe Sunnes faces
Our troubled paces
Dispose aright.
The time now doth require vs
From hence to retire vs,
And lay-by our Lutes:
Night, made day by watches,
With Louers matches
Ʋnkindly sutes.
And, loe! the admir'd glorie
Of our ages storie,
Nurse of all our hopes,
Shines, to our amazement,
From yonder cazement,
Which now shee opes.
Yee Beauties! (by whose flashes
No soules burne to ashes,
But flame night and day)
Grace, with faire reflection,
Our best affection
Shew'n this new way.

Altus of 4. Parts. IIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] O! What muster, &c. O! what muster of glances (Cupids troope of Lances!) What fires! and what darts! O! what sparkling dresses! What catching tresses! What tempting arts!

In this Maze, to conduct vs,
The Skie doth instruct vs
With directiue light:
And two chiefe Sunnes faces
Our troubled paces
Dispose aright.
The time now doth require vs
From hence to retire vs,
And lay-by our Lutes:
Night, made day by watches,
VVith Louers matches
Ʋnkindly sutes. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. V.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
G. Bataille.

Quel espoir de guarir. [...] WIth what wings can I fly From Disease, till I dy dy Of a Loue-kind╌led fe╌uer, Which I may well endure, but but to make know'n dare ne╌uer?

What a Hell 'tis to burst,
And not tell how I thurst
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
O! that Deaths cooling cup,
Would allow mee one sup
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
Yet 'tis fit the high Cause
Should enforce these hard lawes
On my Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I learne to endure, but to make know'n dare neuer.

Tenor of 4. Parts. V.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIth what wings can I fly From Disease, till I dy dy Of a Loue-kindled fe╌uer, Which I may well endure, but but to make know'n dare neuer?

What a Hell 'tis to burst,
And not tell how I thurst
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
O! that Deathe cooling cup
Would allow mee one sup
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
Yet 'tis fit the high Cause
Should enforce these hard lawes
On my Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I learne to endure, but to make know'n dare neuer.

Bassus of 4. Parts. V.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIth what wings can I fly From Disease, till I dy dy Of a Loue-kindled feuer, Which I may well endure, but but to make know'n dare neuer?

What a Hell 'tis to burst,
And not tell how I thurst
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to ma [...] [...] dare neuer!
O! that Deaths cooling cup
Would allow mee one sup
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
Yet 'tis fit the high Cause
Should enforce these hard lawes
On my Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I learne to endure, but to make know'n dare neuer.

Altus of 4. Parts. V.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIth what wings can I fly From Disease, till I dy dy Of a Loue-kindled fe╌uer, Which I may well en╌dure, but but to make know'n dare neuer?

What a Hell 'tis to burst,
And not tell how I thurst
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
O! that Deaths cooling cup
Would allow mee one sup
In this Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I may well endure, but to make know'n dare neuer!
Yet 'tis fit the high Cause
Should enforce these hard lawes
On my Loue-kindled feuer,
Which I learne to endure, but to make know'n dare neuer.

Cantus of 4. Parts. VI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Ga. Ba.

Dù luis-tu, Soleil de mon [...]me? [...] WHat Sp [...]ll holds thee, my Sunne, from rising? VVhat halfe-sphere takes-vp thy whole race? Is Thetis greene lappe the fresh place, That so long keepes thee a bap­tizing? Now that my Sunne daignes mee no light, To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.

Saue thy fires from their vtter quenching:
Rowse, from Neptunes pillowes, thy head:
My flame must Out, if thine proue dead
By combate with so long a drenching.
Now, that my Sunne daignes mee no light,
To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.
Who, but I, can cleare this darke Riddle?
Eies (though not blind) groping at Noone;
Which, let the Sunne rise nêre so soone,
Can neuer get beyond Nights middle?
For, whilest my Sunne.
Thy effects haue draw'n mee to thinking
How I, like the Marigold, liue!
Thy looke on mee my sight doth giue;
Thine absence sets mee straight a winking.
Thus, whilest my Sunne.
Yet at length, cheere mee with a Morrow;
Bringing glad Sommer in thine eie:
Winter, till then, makes my Ioydie
With frosts of Feare in shades of Sorrow.
Now, that my Sunne daignes mee no light,
To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.

Tenor of 4. Parts. VI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHat Spell holds thee, my Sunne, from rising? VVhat halfe-sphere takes-vp thy whole race? Is Thetis greene lappe the fresh place, That so long keepes thee a baptizing? Now that my Sunne daignes mee no light, To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.

Saue thy fires from their vtter quenching:
Rowse, from Neptunes pillowes, thy head:
My flame must out, if thine proue dead
By combate with so long a drenching.
Now, that my Sunne, &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. VI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHat Spell holds thee, my Sunne, from rising? What halfe-sphere takes-vp thy whole race? Is Thetis greene lappe the fresh place, That so long keepes thee a baptizing, Now that my Sun daignes mee no light, To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.

Saue thy fires from their vtter quenching:
Rowse, from Neptunes pillowes, thy head:
My flame must out, if thine proue dead
By combate with so long a drenching.
Now, that my Sunne daignes mee no light,
To mee fairest Day is blacke Night. &c.

Altus of 4. Parts. VI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHat Spell holds thee, my Sunne, from rising? What halfe-sphere takes vp thy whole race? Is Thetis greene lappe the fresh place. That so long keepes thee a baptizing? Now that my Sunne daignes mee no light, To mee fairest Day is blacke Night.

Saue thy fires from their vtter quenching:
Rowse, from Neptunes pillowes, thy head:
My flame must out, if thine proue dead
By combate with so long a drenching.
Now, that my Sunne, &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. VII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
G. Bataille.

Qu' Aminte [...]ut heureux! [...] HOw was Amyn╌tas blest, Whose death, but fained, Was meanes to cleare the brest, That Spite had stai╌ned, And winne the heart that Scorne be╌fore held gai╌ned!

Oft, to the graues cold brinke,
His sighes had blow'n him;
Whilest teares, his fruitlesse drinke,
Had ouerflow'n him:
Yet Syluia, for his Paines, would neuer owne him.
His Loue, his Truth, his Sutes,
His earnest Plying,
His Gifts, his Pen, his Lutes,
His Deifying
Could neuer breake her of her stiffe denying,
'Till, changing Truth for Lie,
Hee taught Loue cunning:
For, faining but to die,
There was no shunning
Deaths yee, which, at Loues flame, set her a sunning.
Why is my harder Fate,
Which should be wheeling,
So steddie in his gate?
And no way reeling?
Which makes my Death more true, my Deare lesse feeling.

Tenor of 4. Parts. VII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] HOw was Amyntas blest, Whose death, but fained, Was meanes to cleare the brest, That Spite had stained; And winne the heart that Scorne be╌fore held gained!

Oft, to the graues cold brinke,
His sighes had blow'n him;
Whilest teares, his fruitlesse drinke,
Had ouerflow'n him:
Yet Syluia, for his Paines, would neuer owne him. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. VII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] HOw was Amyntas blest, Whose death, but fained was meanes to cleare the brest, That Spite had stained; And winne the heart that Scorne be╌fore held gained!

Oft, to the graues cold brinke,
His sighes had blow'n him;
Whilest teares, his fruitlesse drinke,
Had ouerflow'n him:
Yet Syluia, for his Paines would neuer owne him.
His Loue, his Truth, his Sutes,
His earnest Plying,
His Gifts, his Pen, his Lutes,
His Deifying
Could neuer breake her of her stiffe denying,
'Till, changing Truth for Lie,
Hee taught Loue cunning:
For, faining but to die,
There was no shunning
Deaths yce, which, at Loues flame, set her a sunning.
Why is my harder Fate,
Which should be wheeling,
So steddie in his gate?
And no way reeling?
Which makes my Death more true, my Deare lesse feeling.

Altus of 4. Parts. VII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] HOw was Amyntas blest, Whose death, but fai╌ned, Was meanes to cleare the brest, That Spite had stained; And winne the heart that Scorne before held gained!

Oft, to the graues cold brinke,
His sighes had blow'n him;
Whilest teares, his fruitlesse drinke,
Had ouerflow'n him:
Yet Syluia, for his Paines, would neuer owne him. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. VIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Ga. Ba.

COMPLAINTE.

Las! pour­quoy ne suis­je née. [...] WHy, alas! cri'd-out my Mother, To breake my peacefull sleepe of Innocence? And drew the cortin, that did smother Mine Eies from Lights of╌fence?

Since 'twas Light begate the Burning
Whereof mine Eies, now great, in labour are:
But Fire, i'th' birth, to Water turning,
Is prodigie of warre.
Thus, whilest teares not cure but threaten,
Loues painefull growth, now at the fatall hight,
From Hopes barre, after long plea, beaten,
Appeales to Death for right.
For suspicious Enuies canker
So poisons the red fountaine of my vaines,
That all my bloud is turned ranker,
Then that which Ʋlcer staines.
You! rich markes of Natures fauour,
(Which for my Youths grace, shee from Heauen steales)
Shall all your sweets but serue to sauour
Time and Diseases meales?
What auaile my bankes of Roses,
Whose blushes make my Wooers red with fire,
If, forc'd to wound with sharpe opposes,
I proue to them all-Bry'r?
Though my Thoughts delight to houer,
With sindged wings, about Philanders flame,
Yet Feare constraineth mee to couer
Loues fire with Vesta's name.
If my Triumphes bee forbidden,
Why fought my Beauties to subdue his Heart?
What praise get Eies for valour, hidden,
Whilest Tongue playes cowards part?
Thus, though wall'd from Sea of pleasure,
Yet this small Current through the sluce doth crowd;
That MY AFFECTIONS TONGVED MEASVRE
IN SILENCE SPEAKES ALOWD.
Hence it is, that hee delighteth,
With equall warm'th, to keepe life in my heat:
And, in gold-weight of loue, requiteth
Much faith with troth as great.
Yet, thus tempted with Loues plentie,
Wee, hungrie, dare not feed, but with our eies;
Eies watch'd with eies of more then twentie
Sworne centuries of spies.
Friend! whose Eares this plaint shall swallow
Downe to thy Heart (that way to cause a teare)
If thou looke pale to see mee sallow,
Ʋpbraid not Loue but Feare.

Tenor of 4. Parts. VIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy, alas! cri'd-out my Mother, To breake my peacefull sleepe of Innocence? And drew the cortin, that did smother Mine Eies from Lights offence?

Since 'twas Light begate the Burning,
Whereof mine Eies, now great, in labour are:
But Fire, i'th' birth, to Water turning,
Is prodigie of warre.
Thus, whilest teares not cure but threaten,
Loues painefull growth, now at the fatall hight,
From Hopes barre, after long plea, beaten,
Appeales to Death for right. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. VIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy, alas! cri'd-out my Mother, To breake my peacefull sleepe of Innocence? And drew the cortin, that did smother Mine Eies from Lights offence?

Since 'twas Light begate the Burning,
Whereof mine Eies, now great, in labour are:
But Fire, i'th' birth, to Water turning,
Is prodigie of warre.
Thus, whilest teares not cure but threaten,
Loues painefull growth, now at the fatall hight,
From Hopes barre, after long plea, beaten,
Appeales to Death for right.
For suspicious Enuies canker
So poisons the red fountaine of my vaines,
That all my bloud is turned ranker,
Then that which Ʋlcer staines.
You! rich markes of Natures fauour,
(Which for my Youths grace, shee from Heauen steales)
Shall all your sweets but serue to sauour
Time and Diseases meales?
What auaile my bankes of Roses,
Whose blushes make my Wooers red with fire,
If, forc'd to wound with sharpe opposes,
I proue to them all-Bry'r? &c.

Altus of 4. Parts. VIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WHy, alas! cri'd-out my Mo╌ther, To breake my peacefull sleepe of Innocence? And drew the cortin, that did smo╌ther Mine Eies from Lights of╌fence?

Since 'twas Light begate the Burning,
Whereof mine Eies, now great, in labour are:
But Fire, i'th' birth, to Water turning,
Is prodigie of warre.
Thus, whilest teares not cure but threaten,
Loues painefull growth, now at the fatall hight,
From Hopes barre, after long plea, beaten,
Appeales to Death for right. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. IX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

Vn jour l'a­mourense Siluie. [...] SYluia, not long since, halfe╌affrighted, Because loues theft grew vn╌benigh╌ted, Wak'd the mate where╌in shee de╌lighted, And thus did say: With a kisse let all wrongs bee righted, And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day. With a kisse let all wrongs bee righted, And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.

See! where young Morne begins to enter:
What early wings haue late bee'n lent her!
Some sleeplesse riuall may haue sent her,
Ʋs to betray:
Hastily kisse then, to preuent her,
And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.
My feare would faine from hence expell thee,
Before this traytresse Light do sell thee
To Shame: then thinke not much I tell thee
Of thy delay;
With a kisse since I must compell thee
To get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.
My scruple ought not to bee blamed:
Loue, by this blow, is no whit lamed:
Stopp'd flame doth rather, more vntamed,
Rage then decay:
With a kisse fairely then bee framed
To get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.
Syluia! what newes is this doth daunt mee?
(Quoth Shepheard) Canst thou so much scant mee
Of ioy, because the Sunne doth haunt mee
With iealous ray?
But a kisse onely wilt thou grant mee
To get-vp quickly now 'tis day?
His flash, the Worlds beloued wunder,
(To vs like messenger of thunder)
Doth blast Loues arme, and part asunder
His sweetest fray;
With thy kisse (though but enter'd yunder)
Tempting grow'n Flame to fly young Day.
Since then to part I find concerning
Now thy aduice hath taught mee learning,
I will, to shew my sealfe discerning,
Rather then stay,
Take a kisse in pay of loues earning,
And so, farewell; because 'tis day.

Tenor of 4. Parts. IX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SYluia, not long since, halfe affrighted Because loues theft grew vn╌benighted Wak'd the mate wherein shee delighted, And thus did say: With a kisse, &c. With a kisse let all wrongs bee righted, And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.

See! where young Morne begins to enter:
What early wings haue late bee'n lent her!
Some sleeplesse riuall may haue sent her,
Vs to betray:
Hastily kisse them, to preuent her,
And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day,
My feare would faine from hence expell thee,
Before this traytresse Light doe sell thee
To Shame: then thinke not much I tell thee
Of thy delay;
With a kisse since I must compell thee
To get-vp quickly; for 'tis day. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. IX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SYluia, not long since, halfe affrighted, Because loues theft grew vn╌benigted, Wak'd the mate wherein shee delighted, And thus did say: With a kisse, With a kisse let all wrongs bee righted, And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.

See! where young Morne begins to enter:
What early wings haue late bee'n lent her!
Some sleeplesse riuall may haue sent her,
Vs to betray:
Hastily kisse then, to preuent her,
And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.
My feare would faine from hence expell thee,
Before this traytresse Light doe sell thee
To Shame: then thinke not much I tell thee
Of thy delay;
With a kisse since I must compell thee
To get-vp quickly; for 'tis day. &c.

Altus of 4. Parts. IX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SYluia, not long since, halfe affrighted, Because loues theft grew vn╌benighted, Wak'd the mate wherein shee delighted, And thus did say: With a kisse, &c. With a kisse let all wrongs bee righted, And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.

See! where young Morne begins to enter:
What early wings haue late bee'n lent her!
Some sleeplesse riuall may haue sent her,
Vs to betray:
Hastily kisse then, to preuent her,
And get-vp quickly; for 'tis day.
My feare would faine from hence expell thee,
Before this traytresse Light doe sell thee
To Shame: then thinke not much I tell thee
Of thy delay;
With a kisse since I must compell thee
To get-vp quickly; for 'tis day. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. X.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

Las! fuir ac­tu tonsjours? [...] WIlt thou, vntam'd a╌las! still fly, for feare of charming, Thy breast in my teares floud? Or least, with my moanes lance, that Pittie, her selfe arming, Should let thy ri╌gour bloud? O! stay; O! stay, Amarantha, thy flight; Thy flights blacke wings shadow mee with dreadfull night.

As, to behold thine eies, and not adore their luster,
Were bold impietie:
So, to flie (as thou do'st) when Pitties forces muster,
Is cowards crueltie.
O! stay.
'Tis not a hope, thine Eies will proue my sweet Attournies,
When they shall see my case,
That makes mee spend my cries and steps, in endlesse Iournies,
To countermand thy pace.
O! stay.
To tell, how thou alone art Nymphe of my deuotion,
Is all my su'd╌for gaines:
Thou may'st, to grant mee this, though intermit thy motion,
Continue thy disdaines.
O! stay.

Tenor of 4. Parts. X.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIlt thou, vntam'd a╌las! still flie, for feare of charming Thy breast in my teares floud? Or least, with my moanes lance, that Pittie, her selfe arming, Should let thy ri╌gour bloud? O! stay; O! stay, Amarantha, thy flight; Thy flights blacke wings shadow mee with dreadfull night.

As, to behold thine eyes, and not adore their luster,
Were bold impietie:
So, to flie (as thou do'st) when Pitties forces muster,
Is cowards crueltie.
O! stay, &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. X.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIlt thou, vntam'd a╌las! still flie, for feare of charming Thy breast in my teares floud? Or least, with my moanes lance, that Pittie, her selfe arming, Should let thy ri╌gour bloud? O! stay; O! stay, Amaran­tha, thy flight; Thy flights blacke wings shadow mee with dreadfull night.

As, to behold thine eyes, and not adore their luster,
Were bold impietie:
So, to flie (as thou do'st) when Pitties forces muster,
Is cowards crueltie.
O! stay.
'Tis not a hope, thine Eies will proue my sweet Attournies,
When they shall see my case,
That makes mee spend my cries and steps, in endlesse Iournies,
To countermand thy pace.
O stay.
To tell, how thou alone art Nymphe of my deuotion,
Is all my su'd-for gaines:
Thou may'st, to grant mee this, though intermit thy motion,
Continue thy disdaines.
O! stay.

Altus of 4. Parts. X.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] WIlt thou, vntam'd a╌las! still flie, for feare of charming Thy breast in my teares floud? Or least, with my moanes lance, that Pittie, her selfe ar╌ming, Should let thy ri╌gour bloud? O! stay; O! stay, Amarantha, thy flights; Thy flights blacke wings shadow mee with dreadfull night.

As, to behold thine eyes, and not adore their luster,
Were bold impietie:
So, to flie (as thou do'st) when Pitties forces muster,
Is cowards crueltie.
O! stay, &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. XI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Gabriel Bataille.

[...]i le parler, & le silence. [...] IF key of Speach, or locke of Silence, Strike vs with er╌rors, or with feares; Then let Eies vse their se╌cret stile, whence Hearts may bee taught, and yet not Eares. Loue, whose noiselesse wing, by stealth, caught vs, This dumbe discourse, as soft╌ly, taught vs.

Let our Lookes, flying and returning,
(Fit secret Posts for close Desires)
Whisper each others inward burning,
And 'point a time to slake our fires.
Love, whose noilesse wing, &c.
But, if our prying riualls mutter
To see the language of our Eies,
By vnseene Thought our minds wee'll vtter,
As messages are done in Skies.
Loue, whose noilesse wing, &c.
Thus, with an armour new-inuented,
Breaking the puffes of Enuies lungs,
Gard wee our Honors shape vndented,
By poison'd shot of Courtiers tungs,
Whom in Ignorance wee'll all berrie,
And, at their Tombe, bee dumbly merrie.

Tenor of 4. Parts. XI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] IF key of Speach, or locke of Silence, Strike vs with er╌rors, or with feares; Then let Eies vse their secret stile, whence Hearts may bee taught, and yet not Eares. Loue, whose noiselesse wing, by stealth, caught vs, This dumbe discourse, as softly, taught vs.

Let our Lookes, flying and returning,
(Fit secret Posts for close Desires)
Whisper each others inward burning,
And point a time to slake our fires.
Loue, whose noiselesse wing, &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. XI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] IF key of Speach, or locke of Silence, Strike vs with errors, or with feares; Then let Eies vse their secret stile, whence Hearts may bee taught, and yet not Eares. Loue, whose noiselesse wing, by stealth, caught vs, This dumbe discourse, as softly, taught vs.

Let our Lookes, flying and returning,
(Fit secret Posts for close Desires)
Whisper each others inward burning,
And 'point a time to slake our fires.
Loue, whose noiselesse wing, &c.
But, if our prying riualls mutter
To see the language of our Eies,
By vnseene Thought our minds wee'll vtter,
As messages are done in Skies.
Loue, whose noiselesse wing, &c.
Thus, with an armour new-inuented,
Breaking the puffes of Enuies lungs,
Gard wee our Honors shape vndented
By poison'd shot of Courtiers tungs,
Whom in Ignorance wee'll all berrie,
And, at their Tombe, bee dumbly merrie.

Altus of 4. Parts. XI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] IF key of Speach, or locke of Silence, Strike vs with errors, or with feares; Then let Eies vse their secret stile, whence Hearts may bee taught, and yet not Eares. Loue, whose noiselesse wing, by stealth, caught vs, This dumbe discourse, as softly, taught vs.

Let our Lookes, flying and returning,
(Fit secret Posts for close Desires)
Whisper each others inward burning,
And 'point a time to slake our fires.
Loue, whose noiselessewing, &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. XII. The Aire of the Tritonides, in a Masque before this LEWIS the thirteenth and his Mother, at Madame his Sisters taking her leaue to goe into SPAINE.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Gabriel Bataille.

C' est trop courir les eaux. [...] TOo much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: Too much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: And hunt for Pallas heere in this more likely place, For sure in Ʋertues Court the Gods leaue still their trace.

The Groues of our desires
Heere blaze with holy fires:
And those influent Lights, that showre on vs such beames,
Giue hope our happinesse will flow from their bright streames.
Gow' then! let's now accost
Those eyes that wee thought lost:
Their beauties to abbord the more wee slacke our pace,
The lesse we seeme to know the bountie of their grace.
Yee! great bright Sunnes of France,
Whose prudent Lawes good chance
Giues breath to tired hearts by sweet restraint of hand,
Tell vs, if our Minerua doe not neare you stand?
It lieth sure in you
To blesse vs with her view:
For, finding Valour heere so close by Wisedomes side,
Well may wee iudge that Shee doth also heere abide.

Tenor of 4. Parts. XII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TOo much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: Too much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: And hunt for Pallas heere [in this] more likely place, For sure in Vertues Court the Gods leaue still their trace.

The Groues of our desires
Heere blaze with holy fires:
And those influent Lights, that showre on vs such beames,
Giue hope our happinesse will flow from their bright streames. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. XII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TOo much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: Too much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: And hunt for Pallas heere [in this] more likely place, For sure in Ʋertues Court the Gods leaue still their trace.

The Groues of our desires
Heere blaze with holy fires:
And those influent Lights, that showre on vs such beames,
Giue hope our happinesse will flow from their bright streames.
Gow' then! let's now accost
Those eyes that wee thought lost:
Their beauties to abbord the more wee slacke our pace,
The lesse we seeme to know the bountie of their grace.
Yee! great bright Sunnes of France,
Whose prudent Lawes good chance
Giues breath to tired hearts by sweet restraint of hand,
Tell vs, if our Minerua doe not neare you stand?
It lieth sure in you
To blesse vs with her view:
For, finding Valour heere so close by Wisedomes side,
Well may wee iudge that Shee doth also heere abide.

Altus of 4. Parts. XII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TOo much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: Too much wee range the waues, Let's quit these crystall graues: And hunt for Pallas heere [in this] more likely place, For sure in Ʋertues Court the Gods leaue still their trace.

The Groues of our desires
Heere blaze with holy fires:
And those influent Lights, that showre on vs such beames,
Giue hope our happinesse will flow from their bright streames. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. XIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

Ce petit Monarque des coeurs. [...] THat same lit╌tle great King of harts, Ouer-swell'd with custome of ta╌ming, To the fi╌rie yoake of his darts, The supremeneckes of hu╌mane fra╌ming, Would, fur╌ther, needs at╌tempt to knowe, If Death could suf╌fer by his bowe?

Rashly thus hee, wronging his powre,
His full quiuers brood thicke did scatter
At this fllint heart, which, with steel'd showre,
Hee as fondly assay'd to batter,
As winds and waues that, vaine, are bent
A rocke, besieg'd with Seas, to rent.
In the end (abash'd so great spies,
As the Gods, at his shame were merrie)
Hee retir'd himselfe to thine eies
(Damon) there his disgrace to berrie.
Fatall retreat: for 'tis not safe
To lodge a God in such a chafe.

Tenor of 4. Parts. XIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] THat same little great King of harts, Ouerswell'd with custome of ta╌ming, To the firie yoake of his dartes, The supreme neckes of hu╌mane fra╌ming, Would further needs attempt to knowe, If Death could suffer by his bowe?

Rashly thus hee, wronging his powre.
His full quiuers brood thicke did scatter,
At this flintheart, which, with steel'd showre,
Hee as fondly assay'd to batter,
As winds and waues that, vaine, are bent
A rocke, besieg'd with Seas, to rent, &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. XIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] THat same little great King of harts, Ouer-swell'd with cu╌stome of ta╌ming, To the fi╌rie yoake of his darts, The su╌preme neckes of humane fra╌ming, Would fur╌ther needs attempt to knowe, If Death could suf╌fer by his bowe?

Rashly thus hee, wronging his powre,
His full quiuers brood thicke did scatter
At this flint heart, which, with steel'd showre,
Hee as fondly assay'd to batter,
As winds and waues that, vaine, are bent
A rocke, besieg'd with Seas, to rent.
In the end (abash'd so great spies,
As the Gods, at his shame were merrie)
Hee retir'd himselfe to thine eies
(Damon) there his disgrace to berrie.
Fatall retreat: for 'tis not safe
To lodge a God in such a chafe.

Altus of 4. Parts. XIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] THat same little great King of harts, Ouerswell'd with custome of ta╌ming, To the firie yoake of his darts, The supreme neckes of hu╌mane fra╌ming, Would further needs attempt to knowe, If Death could suffer by his bowe?

Rashly thus hee, wronging his powre,
His full quiuers brood thicke did scatter
At this flint heart, which, with steel'd showre,
Hee as fondly assay'd to batter,
As winds and waues that, vaine, are bent
A rocke, besieg'd with Seas, to rent. &c.

Cantus of 4. Parts. XIIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.

Arme toy, [...]a raison! [...] REason! arme thy wrong'd hands: Into nothing make tremble The flame, that, martyr'd brands, Makes my Soule to resem╌ble. If thy diuine tar╌get do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead. If thy diuine target do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead.

Hollow eies (which Griefs flood
Into fill'd wells runnes turning)
Expresse how little good
Water yeelds to soules burning;
And that, if thy high arme doe not shadow my head,
A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead.
With so strong gall doth Loue
My deseru'd Nectar season,
That, if brute mouthes could moue,
Tongues of discursiue Reason,
My cries would make them plead for remorse, which is fled
The bright Eie that would shine mee dead.
Yee! belou'd Okes and Flints,
That my groanes oft haue broken;
Say! if my blazing dints
Doe not clearly betoken,
That, if the Skies prouide not a shade for my head.
[...]

Tenor of 4. Parts. XIIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] REason! arme, &c. The flame that, martyr'd brands, Makes my Soule to resemble. If thy diuine, &c. If thy diuine target do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead.

Hollow eies (which Griefs flood
Into fill'd wells runnes turning)
Expresse how little good
Water yeelds to soules burning;
And that, if thy high arme doe not shadow my head,
A bright Eie soone will shine me dead. &c.

Bassus of 4. Parts. XIIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] REason! arme thy wrong'd hands: Into nothing make tremble, The flame that, martyr'd brands, Makes my Soule to resemble. If thy diuine target do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead. If thy diuine target do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead.

Hollow eies (which Griefs flood
Into fill'd wells runnes turning)
Expresse how little good
Water yeelds to soules burning;
And that, if thy high arme doe not shadow my head,
A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead. &c.

Triplex of 4. Parts. XIIII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] REason! arme, &c. The flame that, martyr'd brands, Makes my Soule to resemble. If thy diuine, &c. If thy diuine target do not shadow my head, A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead.

Hollow eies (which Griefs flood
Into fill'd wells runnes turning)
Expresse how little good
Water yeelds to soules burning;
And that if thy high arme doe not shadow my head,
A bright Eie soone will shine mee dead. &c.

Quintus of 5. Parts. XV.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] THou, whome Fortune, now turn'd tender, With old chaines a╌new doth greet, Ioy thy tribute Soule to render At thy Queenes deseruing feet.

Honour'd, thou, by losse of battell,
With victresse bayes her browes vaile:
Pay, with holocausts of cattell,
Thy new entrance to her jaile.
Blush not, erring, at the glorie
Got by yeelding her thine armes:
Thou alone, in all her storie,
Art found worthy of her harmes. &c.

Cantus of 5. Parts. XV.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...]us, que le [...]n heur [...]ppelle. [...] THou, whome Fortune, now turn'd ten╌der, With old chaines a╌new doth greet, Ioy thy tribute Soule to ren╌der At thy Queenes deseruing feet.

Honour'd, thou, by losse of battell,
With victresse bayes her browes vaile:
Pay, with holocausts of cattell,
Thy new entrance to her jaile.
Blush not, erring, at the glorie
Got by yeelding her thine armes:
Thou alone, in all her storie,
Art found worthy of her harmes.
Her Eie, daigning thee an arrow,
Stoop'd from pitch of wonted glance,
That thy brauely-kindled marrow
Might shine by so rare a chance.
Thy lost Soule, thus new-enchained,
Stile thou her eternall Slaue:
Glorious captiue, who hath gained
Title that defies the Graue.
Thraldome stands on happie pillres,
Whose Fame, Fate-proofe, feares no powres
Of, her ruines strongest willers,
Shakes of Death and Lethe's showres,
'Tis a hight worth thy aspiring
To fall by so loftie eies:
Happie hee, whose Soules expiring
His Names birth doth solemnize.

Tenor of 5. Parts, XV.

PIERRE GVEDRON

[...] THou, whome Fortune, now turn'd tender, With old chaines a╌new doth greet, Ioy thy tribute Soule to render At thy Queenes deseruing feet.

Honour'd, thou, by losse of battell,
With victresse bayes her browes vaile:
Pay, with holocausts of cattell,
Thy new entrance to her jaile. &c.

Bassus of 5. Parts. XV.

PIERRE GVEDRON

[...] THou, whome Fortune, now turn'd tender, With old Chaines a╌new doth greet, Ioy thy tribute Soule to render At thy Queenes deseruing feet.

Honour'd, thou, by losse of battell,
With victresse bayes her browes vaile:
Pay, with holocausts of cattell;
Thy new entrance to her jaile.
Blush not, erring, at the glorie
Got by yeelding her thine armes:
Thou alone, in all her storie,
Art found worthy of her harmes.
Her Eie, daigning thee an arrow,
Stoop'd from pitch of wonted glance,
That thy brauely-kindled marrow
Might shine by so rare a chance.
Thy lost Soule, thus new-enchained,
Stile thou her eternall Slaue:
Glorious captiue, who hath gained
Title that defies the graue. &c.

Altus of 5. Parts. XV.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] THou, whome Fortune, now turn'd tender, With old chaines a╌new doth greet, Ioy thy tribute Soule to render At thy Queenes deseruing feet.

Honour'd, thou, by losse of battell,
With victresse bayes her browes vaile:
Pay, with holocausts of cattell,
Thy new entrance to her jaile. &c.

Quintus of 5. Parts. XVI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SInce our round Yeare hath but one Spring, Let Loue set glosse on this gemme of the Ring: Autumne, once come, prooues our leafs vtter Fall; Haste to Loues feast, while your best Seasons call.

Cantus of 5. Parts. XVI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Pierre Guedron.

Puis que les ans n'ont qu' vn prin­temps. [...] SInce our round Yeare hath but one Spring, Let Loue set glosse on this gemme of the Ring: Autumne, once come, prooues our leafs vtter Fall; Haste to Loues feast while your best Seasons call. Haste to Loues feast, while your best Seasons call.

Tenor of 5. Parts: XVI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SInce our round Yeare hath but one Spring, Let Loue set glosse on this gemme of the Ring: Autumne, once come, prooues our leafs vtter Fall; Haste to Loues feast, while your best Seasons call.

Bassus of 5. Parts. XVI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SInce our round Yeare hath but one Spring, Let Loue set glosse on this gemme of the Ring: Autumne, once come, prooues our leafs vtter Fall; Haste to Loues feast, while your best Seasons call.

Altus of 5. Parts. XVI.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SInce our round Yeare hath but one Spring, Let Loue set glosse on this gemme of the Ring: Autumne, once come, prooues our leafs vtter Fall; Haste to Loues feast, while your best Seasons call.

Quintus of 5. Parts. XVII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SAy then! my hard Iewell, My hard Iewell; say! For thy sparkes long fuell When shall thy gold pay? Shall I, &c. Shall I languish e'remore At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore.

Thou knowest, that my sperit, &c.

Cantus of 5. Parts. XVII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.
Pierre Guedron.

He bien! ma rebelle. [...] SAy then! my hard Iewell, My hard Iewell, say! For thy sparkes long fuell When shall thy gold pay? Shall I languish e'remore, bloudlesse by so sharpe du╌ell? Shall I languish e'remore At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore?

Thou know'st that my sperit
To thee sole d th kneele;
That no strangers merit
Can make my Zeale reele.
Shall I languish e'remore, kept from right to inherit?
Shall I.
Can my bosome, chinking
With long drought of grief,
Find but endlesse drinking
Of teares for relief?
Shall I languish e'remore, vnder Scorns burden sinking?
Shall I.
Can my sacrifisings
Of sighes in breasts fire,
And my early risings
Bargaine for no hire?
Shall I languish e'remore, broken with thy despisings!
Shall I.
Thy lookes, on whose flaming
(To my smart) I gaze,
Cause a feruent blaming
Hearts yee, whilest Eies blaze.
Shall I languish e'remore, tired withy slow taming?
Shall I.
As my cry growes louder,
More in vaine I whine;
Fy! this is to pouder
Cheekes with too long brine.
Shall I languish e'remore at the feet that grow prouder?
Shall I languish eremore
At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore?

Triplex of 5. Parts. XVII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SAy then! my hard Iewell, My hard Iewell, say! For thy sparkes, &c. Shall I languish e'remore, bloudlesse by so sharpe duell? Shall I languish e'remore At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore?

Thou know'st that my sperit
To thee sole doth kneele;
That no strangers merit
Can make my Zeale reele.
Shall I languish e'remore, kept from right to inherit?
Shall I. &c.

Bassus of 5. Parts. XVII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SAy then! my hard Iewell, My hard Iewell, say! For thy sparkes long fuell When shall thy gold pay? Shall I languish e're­more, bloudlesse by so sharpe duell? Shall I languish e'remore At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore?

Thou know'st that my sperit
To thee sole doth kneele;
That no strangers merit
Can make my Zeale reele.
Shall I languish e'remore, kept from right to inherit?
Shall I.
Can my bosome, chinking
With long drought of grief,
Find but endlesse drinking
Of teares for relief?
Shall I languish er'emore, vnder Scornes burden sinking?
Shall I'
Can my sacrifisings
Of sighes in breasts fire,
And my early risings
Bargaine for no hire?
Shall I languish e'remore, broken with thy despisings?
Shall I. &c.

Tenor of 5. Parts. XVII.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] SAy then! my hard Iewell, My hard Iewell, say! For thy sparkes long fuell When shall thy gold pay. Shall I, &c. Shall I languish e'remore At Despaires pale-cheek'd dore?

Thou know'st that my sperit
To thee sole doth kneele;
That no strangers merit
Can make my Zeale reele.
Shall I languish e'remore, kept from right to inherit?
Shall I. &c.

Cantus of 5. Parts. XVIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.
Gabriel Bataille.

[...]e vouldrois [...]en, ô Cloris! [...] KNowe, my deare Idoll Cloris! that, all zea╌lous, Heere at thine altar I would prostrate stay; But common Morne, of eu'rie Louer jea╌lous, To my Disaster brings the Starre of day, Cloris! fare╌well; Oh! let mee dying va╌nish: La nuit [...]'en va, & l'­ [...]nnuy me de­ [...]eure. Day╌light is come my de╌light hence to ba╌nish.

Why, with such firie speed, incessant driuer!
Bringst thou a light that obscures Louers Skies?
Controll thy race; keepe backe thy beamie quiuer;
What needs more Day then shoots from these gray eies?
Cloris! farewell.
Trustie Night! that, in fauour of close Louers,
Friendly displayest thy securing vailes,
[...]
Can light vs best to Loues secret assailes.
Cloris! farewell.
Can it then bee, yee Gods whom I importune,
That the Day's birth should make Loues Morning die?
And, this first downe of my yet tender Fortune,
Must it make wing because fledg'd Night doth flie?
Cloris! farewell; oh! let mee dying vanish;

Quintus of 5. Parts. XVIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.

[...] KNowe, &c. Cloris! fare╌well; Oh! let mee dying va╌nish: Day╌light is come my de╌light hence to banish.

Tenor of 5. Parts: XVIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.

[...] KNow, &c. But com╌mon Morne, of eu'rie Louer jealous, To my Disaster brings the Starre of day. Cloris! farewell; Oh! let mee dying va╌nish: Day╌light is come my delight hence to banish.

Why, with such firie speed, incessant driuer!
Bring'st thou a light that obscures Louers Skies?
Controll thy race; keepe backe thy beamie quiuer;
What needs more Day then shoots from these gray eies?
Cloris! farewell.
Night, that, in sauour of close Louers,
[...] [...]est thy securing vailes,
[...]thy shadie couers
Can light vs best to Loues secret assailes.
Cloris! farewell.
Can it then bee, yee Gods whom I importune,
That the Day's birth should make Loues Morning die?
And, this first downe of my yet tender Fortune,
Must it make wing, because fledg'd Night doth flie?
Cloris! farewell; oh! let mee dying vanish;
Day light is come my delight hence to banish.

Bassus of 5. Parts. XVIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.

[...] KNow, my deare Idoll, Cloris! that, all zealous, Heere at thine altar I would prostrate stay: But common Morne, of eu'rie Louer jealous, To my Disaster brings the Starre of day. Cloris! farewell; Oh! let mee dying va╌nish: Day╌light is come my delight hence to ba╌nish.

Why, with such firie speed, incessant driuer!
Bring'st thou a light that obscures Louers Skies?
Controll thy race; keepe backe thy beamie quiuer;
What needs more Day then shoots from these gray eies?
Cloris! farewell.
Trustie Night! that, infauour of close Louers,
Friendly displayest thy securing vailes,
Fright backe pale Morne; tell her thy shadie couers
Can light vs best to Loues secret assailes.
Cloris! farewell.
Can it then bee, yee Gods whom I importune,
That the Day's birth should make Loues Morning die?
And, this first downe of my yet tender Fortune,
Must it make wing because fledg'd Night doth flie?
Cloris! farewell.

Altus of 5. Parts. XVIII.

ANTHOINE BOESSET.

[...] KNow, &c. But common Morne, of eu'rie Lo╌uer jea╌lous, To my Disaster brings the Starre of day. Cloris! farewell; Oh! let mee dying va╌nish: Day╌light is come my delight hence to banish.

Why, with such firie speed, incessant driuer!
Bring'st thou a light that obscures Louers Skies?
Controll thy race; keepe backe thy beamie quiuer;
What needs more Day then shoots from these gray eies?
Cloris! farewell.
Trustie Night! that, in fauour of close Louers,
Friendly displayest thy securing vailes,
Fright backe pale Morne; tell her thy shadie couers
Can light vs best to Loues secret assailes.
Cloris! farewell.
Can it then bee, yee Gods whom I importune,
That the Day's birth should make Loues Morning die?
And, this first downe of my yet tender Fortune,
Must it make wing, because fledg'd Night doth flie?
Cloris! farewell; oh let me dying vanish;
Day╌light is come my delight hence to banish.

Altus of 5. Parts. XIX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TO your sports, &c. Cantus secundusCatch gray Time by the beard as hee passes. Trust not, &c. Altus of 5. Parts. Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages: Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.

Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you
To Loues Hall, goe! what euer befall you.
Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth,
And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth.
Spend, in bowres.

Cantus of 5. Parts, XIX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TO your sports and delights, yee blith lasses! Catch gray Time by the beard as hee passes: Catch gray Time by the beard as hee passes: Trust not his bald necke; t'will slip-of your collers; And, by his euasion, you'll seeme ill Schollers. Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages. Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.

Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you
To loues Hall, goe! what euer befall you.
Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth,
And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth.
Spend, in bowres.
Bugle-lac'd are the skirts of the Mountaines
With the fugitiue glasse of the Fountaines:
Morne, vrg'd by Enuie, braue Flora opposes,
And dares her to See her at Ʋying roses.
Spend, in bowres.
The faire Dayes, that the Spring now doth muster,
Serue to adde, to your youths, heat and luster.
New Phoebus, drench'd (but not quench'd) with Sea-billowes,
Brings, with the Worlds, Loues fire from his wet pillowes.
Spend, in bowres.
Wanton Brookes, reeling through flowrie Ʋallies.
Runne and catch and kisse their neighbour Allies:
Mild Zephyr whispers a loue-tale to Flora;
The Birds of like subiect, talke to Aurora.
Spend, in bowres.
Bone-fires and Dances are each eies pleasure:
Winged feet to swift tunes beating measure:
Aeolus opens his Eares to these wonders,
And shuts-in his Mouth from breathing of thunders.
Spend, in bowres.
Natures whole armie, that gards Lifes banner,
By Loues Colours is made to looke wanner;
And sure that heart, that his hand makes not tremble,
Is dead, though the spirits may life resemble.
Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages)
The shining forenoone of your ages.

Tenor of 5. Parts: XIX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TO your sports, &c. To your sports and delights, yee blith lasses! Catch, &c. Trust not, &c. Spend, &c. Spend in bowres, Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.

Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you
To Loues Hall, goe! what euer befall you.
Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth,
And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth.
Spend, in bowres.
Bugle-lac'd are the skirts of the Mountaines
With the fugitiue glasse of the Fountaines:
Morne, vrg'd by Enuie, braue Flora opposes,
And dares her to See her at Vying roses.
Spend, in bowres. &c.

Bassus of 5. Parts. XIX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TO your sports, &c. Catch, &c. Catch gray Time by the beard as hee passes. Trust not his bald necke; t'will slip-of your collers, And, by his euasion, you'll seeme ill Schollers. Spend, &c. Spend in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.

Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you
To Loues Hall, goe! what euer befall you.
Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth,
And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth.
Spend, in bowres.
Bugle-lac'd are the skirts of the Mountaines
With the fugitiue glasse of the Fountaines:
Morne, vrg'd by Enuie, braue Flora opposes,
And dares her to See her at Vying roses.
Spend, in bowres.
The faire Dayes that the Spring now doth muster,
Serue to adde, to your youths, heat and luster.
New Phoebus, drench'd (but not quench'd) with Sea-billowes,
Brings, with the Worlds, Loues fire from his wet pillowes.
Spend, in bowres. &c.

Quintus of 5. Parts. XIX.

PIERRE GVEDRON.

[...] TTo your &c. To your sports and delights, yee blith lasses! Catch, &c. Trust not, &c. Spend, &c. Spend, in bowres and thicke groues (Loues darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.

Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you
To Loues Hall, goe! what euer befall you,
Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth,
And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth.
Spend, in bowres.
Bugle-lac'd are the skirts of the Mountaines
With the fugitiue glasse of the Fountaines:
Morne, vrg'd by Enuie, braue Flora opposes,
And dares her to See her at Vying roses.
Spend, in bowres.

The English Table of the Aires of this BOOKE.

A.
  • AT length, heere Shee is. II.
B.
  • Bright Abstract of vs seauen. I.
H.
  • How was Amyntas blest. VII.
I.
  • If key of Speach, or locke of Silence. XI.
K.
  • Know, my deare Idoll Cloris! XVIII.
O.
  • O! what muster of glances! IIII.
R.
  • Reason! arme thy wrong'd hands. XIIII.
S.
  • Say then! my hard Iewell. XVII.
  • Since our round Yeare. XVI.
  • Syluia, not long since, halfe-affrighted. IX.
T.
  • That same litle great King of harts. XIII.
  • Thou, whom Fortune. XV.
  • Too much wee range the waues. XII.
  • To your Sports and delights. XIX.
W.
  • What spell holds thee, my Sunne, from rising? VI.
  • Why, alas! cry'd out my mother. VIII.
  • Why haue thy Thoughts conspired. III.
  • Wilt thou, vntam'd, alas! X.
  • With what wings can I flie. V.

THE FRENCH TABLE of the same.

A.
  • ADorable Princesse. I.
  • Aux plaifirs, aux delices Bergeres. XIX.
  • Arme toy, ma raison! XIIII.
C.
  • Ce petit Monarque des coeurs. XIII.
  • C'est trop courir les eaux. XII.
E.
  • En fin, la voyci. II.
H.
  • He bien! ma rebelle. XVII.
I.
  • Ie voudrois bien, ô Cloris! XVIII.
L.
  • Las! fuiras-tu toujours. X.
  • Las! pour quoy ne suis-je née. VIII.
O.
  • O! grands Dieux, que de charmes! IIII.
  • Où luis-tu, Soleil de moname? VI.
P.
  • Puis que les ans. XVI.
Q.
  • Qu'Aminte fut heureux! VII.
  • Quel espoir de guarir. V.
  • Que n'estes vous lassées. III.
S.
  • Si le parler & le silence. XI.
V.
  • Vn jour l'amoureuse Siluie. IX.
  • Vous, que le bon heur r'appelle. XV.

The Originals of the English Ditties of this Booke.

ADorable Princesse,
Il est temps que je cesse,
De courir dās les Cieux
Et que ma flame cede
Le rang qu'elle y possede,
Aux flames de tes yeux.
O Beauté sans exemple,
Où nature contemple
Son pouuoir nom pareil:
De puis l'heure premiere
Que je vis ta lumiere,
Ie ne suis plus Soleil.
Ton oeil qui me surmonte,
Me donne tant de honte
Lors que je fais mon cours,
Que pleust à la fortune
Que les flots de Neptune
Me conurissent toujours.
Ma course vagabonde
En quel que part du monde
Qu'elle éclaire aux humains,
Ne void rien qui n'admire,
En l'heur de ton Empire,
L'adresse de tes mains.
Tes conseils, & tes veilles
Ont par tant de merueilles
Ses malheurs abatus,
Que les chansons des Anges
N'auront pas des louanges
Dignes de tes vertus.
Ta prudence a des charmes
Quifont tomber les armes
Des mains des plus grands Roys,
Et mettent dans les bouches
Des gens les plus farouches
La gloire de tes loix.
Tu fais voir à cétâge
De la Seine & du Tage
Les discors terminés,
Et montres à la Guerre
Au centre de la Terre
Ses Demons enchainés.
L'art de la flatterie
Aux graces de Marie
Ne pût rien adjouster:
Sa gloire s'est haussée
Où l'humaine pensée
Tasche en vain de monter.
O Dieux! en qui la France
A logé l'esperance
De sa felicité,
Iamais vostre largesse
Ne mit tant de sagesse
Auec tant de beauté.
Facent vos destinées
Que le cours des années
Quine pardonne à rien,
Ace parfait visage
N'oste point l'auantage
Qu'il a dessus le mien.

II.

EN fin la voyci, nous voyons ces beaux yeux,
L'amour de la Terre & des Cieux:
Dont nostre Mars, en son choix bien-heureux,
Est si fort amoureux.
Le Ciel n'a jamais joint à tant de beauté
Ʋne si douce Majesté,
Qui dans les coeurs inspire tour à tour
Le respect & l'amour.
En fin les voyci, nos voeux sont accomplis,
Nos esprits d'aises remplis.
Puisse en tous deux par vn heureux destin
Viure vn amour sans fin,

III.

QƲe n'estes vous lassées
Mes tristes pensées
De troubler ma raison?
Et faire auecque blâme
Rebeller mon ame
Contre sa guarison.
Que ne cessent mes larmes
Inutiles armes,
Et que n'oste des Cieux
La fatalle ordonnance
A ma souuenance,
Ce qu'elle oste à mes yeux?
O beauté nompareille!
Ma chere merueille,
Que le rigoureux sort
Dont vous m'estes rauie
Aymeroit ma vie
S'il m'enuoyoit la mort.
Quelle pointe de rage
Ne sent mon courage
De voir que le danger
En vos ans les plus tendres
Menasse vos cendres
D'vn cercueil estranger.
Ie m'impose silence
En la violence
Que me fait ce malheur:
Mais j'acrois mon martire,
Et n'oserrien dire
M'est douleur sur douleur.
Aussi suis-je vn squellette,
Et la violettte,
Qu' vn froid hors de saison
Et le sec a flestrie,
Ama peau meurtrie
Est la comparaison.
Dieux! queles destinées
Les plus obstinées
Tournent de malen bien!
Apres tant de tempestes,
Mes justes requestes
N'obtiendront elles rien?
Aués-vous eu les tiltres
D'absolus arbitres
De l'estat des mortels,
Pour estre inexorables
Quand les miserables
Implorent vos authels?
Mon soin n'est point de faire
En l'autre Emisphere
Voir mes actes guerriers,
Et jusqu'au bord de l'onde
Ou finit le monde,
Aquerir des lauriers.
Deux beaux yeux [...]
Pour qui je soupire,
Sans eux rien ne m'est doux:
Donnés moy certejoye
Que jeles reuoye,
Ie suis dieu comme vous.

IIII.

O! Grands dieux que de charmes,
Amoureuses armes,
De feux & de dards.
Que d'astres propices,
Que de delices,
Et doux regards.
Donc pour nous mieux conduire
Le Ciel fait reluire
Des feux nompareils:
Et nos pas timides
Ont pour leurs guides
Deux grands soleils.
Quittons la pourmenade,
Cette serénade,
Et nos Luths charmants:
La nuit solitaire
Se rend trop claire,
Pour des amants.
Puis la rare merueille,
Cause nompareille
De tous nos souhaits,
Commence à paroistre
A la fenestre
De son Palais.
Beautés, par qui les ames
Ont de viues flames,
Bruslant nuit & jour:
Fauorisés belle
L'offre nouuelle
De nostre amour.

V

QƲel espoir de guarir
Puis-je auoir sans mourir,
D'vn amoureux martire,
Que je puis bien souffrir, mais que je n'ose dire?
Quel moyen de celer,
Et mourir sans parler
D'vn amoureux martire,
Que je puis bien souffrir, mais que je n'ose dire?
Si la mort seulement
Peut guarir mon tourment,
Et l'amoureux martire
Que je puis bien souffrir, mais que je n'ose dire.
Toute-fois il le faut,
Le subjet est trophaut
De mon cruel martire
Qui m'apprend à souffrir, mais non pas à le dire.

VI.

OƲ luis-tu Soleil de mon ame?
Où luis-tu flambeau de mes yeux?
Oubliras tu toujours les cieux?
Et au sein de Thetis ta flame?
Or que mon beau Soleil ne luit,
Le jour ne m'est plus qu'une nuit.
Sortez donc mon Phebus de l'onde,
Et me redonnez vn beau jour:
Sans vous ma vie & mon amour
Ne peut voir, ni viure en ce monde.
Or que mon.
Qui est celuy la qui n'espere
De voir quand le Soleil nous luit,
Que moy qui demeure en la nuit,
Absent du beau jour qui m'esclaire?
Or que mon.
C'est donc vous, agreable veuē,
Qui me faict semblable au soucy:
Quand je vous voy je veis aussi,
Absent vostre absence me tue.
Or que mon.
Reuenez donc lumiere saincte,
Vostre oeil me promet vn esté:
Sans vous je me sens tourmenté
D vn yuer d'ennuis, & de crainte.
Or que mon.

VII.

QƲ' Aminte fut heureux,
Dont la mort feinte
Sçeut d'un trait amoureux
Donner attteinte
Au coeur où la pitié sembloit esteinte!
Alors qu'il soupiroit
Presque sans vie,
Et que son coeur mouroit
Pour sa Siluie,
Son amour de malheur estoit suiuie.
Son amour, ses douleurs,
Ses cris, ses peines:
Ses soupirs & ses pleurs,
Sa foy certaine,
Ne sçeurent one flechir ceste inhumaine.
Mais sa mort feinte vn jour,
Mort salutaire:
Faisant ce que l'Amour
N'auoit peu faire,
Blessa d'vn trait d'Amour son aduersaire.
Que n'est helas mon sort
Au sien semblable?
Pourquoy rend il ma mort
Plus veritable,
Et vous, belle toujours, moins pitoyable?

VIII.

LAs! pourquoy ne suis-je née,
Que pour souffrir mile & mile tourments,
Et pour me voir abandonnée
De tous contentements?
Mes yeux vont versant des larmes,
Cruel remede aux moyennes douleurs:
Mais à quoy sont bonnes ces armes
Qu'à de communs malheurs?
Ma peine est si desplorable
Que je ne puis esperer nul secours
Si non par la fin miserable
De mes malheureux jours.
Vne soupçonneuse enuie
De mon sang mesme incitant la rigueur,
Le rend ennemi de ma vie,
Et de mes maux l'autheur.
Vous riches dons de nature,
Dont mes beaux ans du Ciel sont honorés,
Serés vous du mal que j'endure
Et du temps deuorés?
Que me sert-il d'estre belle,
Que mile amans me viennent rechercher:
S'il faut que moy-mesme, cruelle,
Ie feigne estre vn rocher?
Bien qu'Amour dedans mon ame
De mon Philandre ayt grande la vertu:
Mon coeur en recelle la flame
Par la crainte abbatu.
Que me sert donc la victoire
Que mes beautés obtiennent sur son coeur,
Si la crainte en oste la gloire
A mon oeil son vainqueur?
Ce seul bien me reconforte,
C'est qu'il ne peut, ny ne doit ignorer,
L'affection que je luy porte,
Qu'on ne peut mesurer.
Ie sçay qu'vn amour extresme
Pour moy le rend ardamment allumé [...],
Et que fidellement il m'ayme,
Comme il est bien aymé.
Mais de nos ames blessées
Les seuls regards sont les doux aliments:
Regards messagers des pensées
Des fidelles amans.
Ʋous qui lirés cette plainte
Que la douleur de mon coeur va tirant:
Plaignés, non l'amour, mais la crainte
Qui me va martirant.

IX.

VN jour l'amoureuse Siluie
Disoit, baise moy je te prie,
An berger qui seul est sa vie
Et son amour,
Baise moy Pasteur je te prie,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
Regarde la naissante Aurore,
Baise moy Pasteur que j'adore,
Qui veut que je te prie encore
Par nostre amour:
Baise moy Pasteur que j'adore,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
Ma crainte hors d'ici t'appelle,
Baise moy Pasteur ce dit-elle,
O dieux! dit-il, quelle nouuelle
Pour tant d'amour:
Baise moy Pasteur ce dit-elle,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
De cela Pasteur ne me blâme,
Baise moy plustofi ma chere ame,
Le secret entretient la flame
D'vn bel amour:
Baise moy doncques ma chere ame,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
Ha! que dis-tu, chere Siluie?
Baise moy Pasteur je te prie,
Le Soleil porte donc enuie
A nostre Amour?
Baise moy Pasteur je te prie,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
Sa clairté qu'on trouue si belle,
Baise moy Pasteur ce dit-elle,
Se rend importune & cruelle
A nostre Amour:
Baise moy Pasteur ce dit-elle,
Et te leue, car il est jour.
Mais puis qu'il faut que je te laisse
Baise moy ma chere dé esse,
Soulage l'ennuy qui m'oppresse
Par trop d'amour:
Baise moy ma chere déesse,
Et puis adieu, car il est jour,

X.

LAs! fuiras-eu toujours de peur d'ouir mes plaintes,
Et de voir ma langueur?
Crains-tu que la pitié de ces douces attaintes
Neblesse ta rigueur?
Arreste, arreste, Amaranthe, tu fuis,
Tu fuis, & me laisse en fuiant mile ennuis.
Comme de voir tes yeux sans adorer leurs charmes
Est vne impieté:
Craindre comme tu fais de la pitié les armes
Est vne cruauté,
Arreste.
Non, ce n'est point l'espoir que tu sois moins cruelle
En voyant mon tourment,
Qui fait qu'en soupirant Amaranthe j'appelle,
Criant incessamment,
Arreste.
Te dire seulement que mon ame t'adore
Est ce que je requiers,
Tu peux me l'accorder, & conseruer encore
Tes desdains tous entiers.
Arreste.

XI.

SI le parler & le silence
Nuit à nostre heur également,
Parlons donc ma chere esperance
Du coeur & des yeux selement:
Amour ce petit dieu volage
Nous aprend ce muet langage.
Que le regard vole & reuole
Messager de nos passions,
Et serue au lieu de la parole
Pour dire nos intentions.
Amour.
Mais si quelque ame est offencée
De nous voir discourir des yeux,
Nous parlerons de la pensée
Comme les Anges dans les cieux.
Amour.
Ainsi par vn doux artifice
Nous tromperons les courtisans,
Et nous rirons de la malice
De mile facheux mesdisans,
Qui n'en sçauront pas d'aduantage,
Ignorant ce muet langage.

XII.

C'Est trop courir les eaux,
Sortons de ces roseaux,
Et cherchons desormais Pallas en ces beaux lieux
Puis qu'entre les vertus on doit chercher les Dieux.
Ʋoyci les bois sacrés
Tant de fois desirés
Et ces Astres diuins brillans sur cette Cour,
Tesmoignent que nostre heur doit estre en ce sejour.
Allons donc, approchons
Les yeux que nous cherchons:
Tant plus nous differons d'aborder leurs beautés,
Tant plus nous tesmoignons d'ignorer leurs bontés.
Grands soleils des François,
Dont les prudentes Loix
Font respirer les coeurs sous vnregne si doux,
Dittes-nous si Minerue est point aupres de vous?
Ʋous aués le pounoir
De nous la faire voir,
Et trouuans la Valeur & la Prudence icy,
Auec grande raison nous l'y cherchons aussi.

XIII.

CE petit Monarque des ceurs,
Glorieux de voir arrestées
Sous le joug de ses traits vainqueurs,
Les puissances plus redoutées.
Ʋoulut essayer si la mort
Flechiroit point sous son effort.
En vain son pouuoir irrité
Descochoit mile & mile flesches
Sur ce coeur dont la dureté
N'estoit pas capable de bresches,
Non plus que les flots d'entamer
Vn roc au milieu de la mer.
En fin honteux que tous les Dieux
Fussent tesmoins de sa deffaite,
Il se cacha dedans tes yeux,
Mon Damon, funeste retraite.
Qu'il est dangereux de loger
Vn Amour qui se veut vanger.

XIV.

ARme toy, ma raison,
Pour combattre la flame,
Qui veut hors de saison
Tiranniser mon ame,
Si ton pouuoir diuin ne me vient secourir,
Ʋn bel oeil me fer a mourir.
Mes yeux que mon tourment
A changés en fontaines,
Tesmoignent clairement
La grandeur de mes peines.
Et que, si ton pouuoir ne me vient secourir,
Ʋn bel oeil me fer a mourir.
Ie souffre tant de maux.
En l'amoureux seruage,
Que si les animaux
Parloyent nostre langage,
Ils viendroyent à mes cris de pitié requerir
Le bel oeil qui me fait mourir.
Vous, de ma triste voix
Le rendés-vous aymable,
Dites rochers & bois
S'il est pas veritable
Qu'à faute que le Ciel me vienne secourir
Ʋn bel oeil me fera mourir?

XV.

VOus, que le bon heur r'appelle
A vn seruage antien,
Mourrez aux pieds de la belle
Qui vous daigne faire sien.
Glorieux en vostre perte
Honorex vostre vainqueur,
Qui vous a la porte ouverte
De la prison de son coeur.
Heureux venez vous donc rendre
A celle qui vous à pris,
C'est honneur de se veoir prendre
A qui tient tout à mépris.
Ainsi vostre ame reprise
Finit toute liberté:
Glorieuse est l'entreprise
Qui guide à l'eternité.
Cet oeil r'abaissant sa gloire
Ʋous à blessé de ses traits,
Affin que de sa victoire
Vous vous honoriez apres.
[...] [...]cuse ser [...]tude
Do [...] le genereux effort,
P [...] ain [...]re l'ingratitude
De l'oubli & de la mort.
L'honnour d'un brane aduersaire
Honore vostre trespas,
Heureux qu'en mourant peut faire
Que son nom ne meure pas,

XVI.

PVis que les ans n'ont qu' vn printemps,
Passez amans doucement vostre temps:
Vos jours s'en vont & n'ont point de retour;
Employez les aux delices d' Amour.

XVII.

HE! bien ma rebelle,
Marebelle he bien,
Mon amour fidelle
N'obtiendra-il rien?
Languiray-je toujours pour l'amour de toy belle?
Languiray-je toujours
Sans espoir de secours?
Tu sçays que mon ame
N'adore que toy,
Que nulle autre dame
N'a pouuoir sur moy.
Languiray-je toujours beauté que je reclame?
Langui.
Quoy? donc la souffrance
De tant de douleurs
Pour saerecompence
N'aura que des pleurs?
Languiray-je toujours sans aucunc esperance?
Langui.
Tant de sacrifices
De mon coeur rendus,
Et tant de seruices
Seront-ils perdus?
Languiray-je toujours parmy tant de supplices?
Langui.
Ton oeil qui m'enflame
Causant ma langueur,
Crains-tu point qu'on blame
De longuorigueur?
Languiray-je toujours pour t'aymer ma chere ame?
Langui.
Tant plus je t'appelle
Et moins tu m'entends,
C'est estre cruelle
Trop & trop long temps.
Languiray-je toujours pour l'amour de toy belle?
Languiray-je toujours
Sans espoir de secours?

XVIII.

IE voudrois bien, ô Cloris, que j'adore,
Entre vos bras faire plus long sejour:
Mais las! voyci cette jalouse Aurore
A mon malheur qui rameine le jour.
Adieu Cloris, il est temps que je meure,
La nuit s'en va & l'ennui me demeure.
Pourquoy si tost importune courriere
Viens tu troubler l'aise do nos espris?
Arreste toy, retarde ta lumiere,
Suffit-il pas des beaux yeux qui m'ont pri [...]?
Adieu Cloris.
O douce nuit de qui les voiles sombres
Sont desployés en faueur des amants,
Ou t'en fuis-tu, sçays-tu pas que tes ombres
Donnent la vie à mes contentements?
Adieu Cloris.
Iusques à quand ô Dieux! que j'importune,
Le jour naissant mes plaisirs destruira,
Et les effets de ma bonne fortune
S'enfuiront-ils quand la nuit s'enfuira?
Adieu Cloris, il est temps que je meure,
La nuit s'en va & l'ennui me demeure.

XIX.

AVx plaisirs, aux delices Bergeres,
Il faut estre du temps ménageres:
Car il s'escoule & se perd d'heure en heure,
Et le regret seulement en demeure.
A l'amour, au plaisir, au boccage,
Employés les beaux jours de vostre âge.
Maintenant la saison vous conuie
De passer en aymant vostre vie:
Des-ja la Terre à pris sa robe verte,
D'herbe & de fleurs la campagne est couuerte.
A l'amour.
Le cristal fugitif des fontaines
Va bordant les chemins & les plaines:
L' Aurore espend au Ciel autant de roses
Qu'elle en descouure en la terre d'escloses.
A l'amour.
Du Printemps les plus belles journées
Semblent estre aux amours destinées:
Le Soleil vient, & r'apporte de l'onde
Le feu d'Amour, auec celuy du monde.
A l'amour.
Les ruisseaux vont aux plaines fleuries
Cajolant & baisant les prairies:
Le doux Zephir parle d'amour à Flore,
Et les Oiseaux en parlent à l'Aurore.
A l'amour.
On ne void que des feux & des dances,
On n'entend que chansons & cadances,
Et le vent mesme escoutant ces merueilles,
Ferme la bouche, & non pas les oreilles.
A l'amour.
Ce qui vit, qui se meurt, qui respire,
D'amour parle, ou murmure, ou soupire:
Aussi le coeur quin'en sent la pointure
S'il est viuant, il est contre nature.
A l'amour, au plaisir, auboccage,
Employés les beaux jours de vostre âge.
FINIS.

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