[from the Edition of 1602]

As other men, so I my selfe doe muse, Why in this sort I wrest Inuention so, And why these giddy metaphors I vse, Leauing the path the greater part doe goe; I will resolue you; I am lunaticke, And euer this in mad men you shall finde, What they last thought on when the braine grew sick, In most distraction keepe that still in minde. Thus talking idely in this bedlam fit, Reason and I, (you must conceiue) are twaine, 'Tis nine yeeres, now, since first I lost my wit Beare with me, then, though troubled be my braine; With diet and correction, men distraught, (Not too farre past) may to their wits be brought.

If hee from heauen that filch'd that liuing fire, Condemn'd by Ioue to endlesse torment be, I greatly meruaile how you still goe free, That farre beyond Promethius did aspire? The fire he stole, although of heauenly kinde, Which from aboue he craftily did take, Of liueles clods vs liuing men to make, Againe bestow'd in temper of the mind. But you broke in to heauens immortall store, Where vertue, honour, wit, and beautie lay, Which taking thence, you haue escap'd away, Yet stand as free as ere you did before. But old Promethius punish'd for his rape, Thus poore theeues suffer, when the greater scape.

With fooles and children good discretion beares, Then honest people beare with Loue and me, Nor older yet, nor wiser made by yeeres, Amongst the rest of fooles and children be; Loues still a Baby, playes with gaudes and toyes, And like a wanton sports with euery feather, And Idiots still are running after boyes, Then fooles and children fitt'st to goe together; He still as young as when he first was borne, No wiser I, then when as young as he, You that behold vs, laugh vs not to scorne, Giue Nature thanks, you are not such as we; Yet fooles and children sometimes tell in play, Some wise in showe, more fooles in deede, then they.

I heare some say, this man is not in loue, Who, can he loue? a likely thing they say: Reade but his verse, and it will easily proue; O iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray, Because I loosely tryfle in this sort, As one that faine his sorrowes would beguile: You now suppose me, all this time in sport, And please your selfe with this conceit the while. You shallow censures; sometime see you not In greatest perills some men pleasant be, Where fame by death is onely to be got, They resolute, so stands the case with me; Where other men, in depth of passion cry, I laugh at fortune, as in iest to die.

To such as say thy loue I ouer-prize, And doe not sticke to terme my praises folly, Against these folkes that think them selues so wise, I thus appose my force of reason wholly, Though I giue more, then well affords my state, In which expense the most suppose me vaine, Would yeeld them nothing at the easiest rate, Yet at this price, returnes me treble gaine, They value not, vnskilfull how to vse, And I giue much, because I gaine thereby, I that thus take, or they that thus refuse, Whether are these deccaued then, or I? In euery thing I hold this maxim still, The circumstance doth make it good or ill.

Deare, why should you commaund me to my rest When now the night doth summon all to sleepe? Me thinks this time becommeth louers best, Night was ordained together friends to keepe. How happy are all other liuing things, Which though the day disioyne by seuerall flight, The quiet euening yet together brings, And each returnes vnto his loue at night. O thou that art so curteous vnto all, Why shouldst thou Night abuse me onely thus, That euery creature to his kinde doost call, And yet tis thou doost onely seuer vs. Well could I wish it would be euer day, If when night comes you bid me goe away.

As Loue and I, late harbour'd in one Inne, With Prouerbs thus each other intertaine; In loue there is no lacke, thus I beginne? Faire words makes fooles, replieth he againe? That spares to speake, doth spare to speed (quoth I) As well (saith he) too forward as too slow. Fortune assists the boldest, I replie? A hasty man (quoth he) nere wanted woe. Labour is light, where loue (quoth I) doth pay, (Saith he) light burthens heauy, if farre borne? (Quoth I) the maine lost, cast the by away: You haue spunne a faire thred, he replies in scorne. And hauing thus a while each other thwarted, Fooles as we met, so fooles againe we parted.

Not thy graue Counsells, nor thy Subiects loue, Nor all that famous Scottish royaltie, Or what thy soueraigne greatnes may approue, Others in vaine doe but historifie, When thine owne glorie from thy selfe doth spring, As though thou did'st, all meaner prayses scorne: Of Kings a Poet, and the Poets King, They Princes, but thou Prophets do'st adorne; Whilst others by their Empires are renown'd, Thou do'st enrich thy Scotland with renowne, And Kings can but with Diadems be crown'd, But with thy Laurell, thou doo'st crowne thy Crowne; That they whose pens, euen life to Kings doe giue, In thee a King, shall seeke them selues to liue.

Bright starre of Beauty, on whose eyelids sit, A thousand Nimph-like and enamoured Graces, The Goddesses of memory and wit, Which in due order take their seuerall places, In whose deare bosome, sweet delicious loue, Layes downe his quiuer, that he once did beare, Since he that blessed Paradice did proue, Forsooke his mothers lap to sport him there. Let others striue to entertaine with words, My soule is of another temper made; I hold it vile that vulgar wit affords, Deuouring time my faith, shall not inuade: Still let my praise be honoured thus by you, Be you most worthy, whilst I be most true.