In amore tormentum
Even as the gnattes, that flie into the blaze,
Doe burne their winges and fall into the fire:
So, those too muche on gallant showes that gaze,
Are captives caught, and burne in their desire:
And suche as once doe feele this inwarde warre,
Thoughe they bee cur'de, yet still appeares the scarre.
For wanton LOVE althoughe hee promise joies,
Yet hee that yeeldes in hope to finde it true,
His pleasures shalbee mated with annoyes;
And sweetes suppos'de, bee mix'd, with bitter rue:
Bicause, his dartes not all alike, doe wounde:
For so the frendes of coye ASPASIA founde.
They lov'd, shee loth'de: they crav'd, shee still deni'de.
They sigh'd, shee songe: they spake, shee stopt her eare.
They walk'd, shee satte: they set, awaye shee hi'de.
Lo this their bale, which was her blisse, you heare.
O love, a plague, thoughe grac'd with gallant glosse,
For in thy seates a snake is in the mosse.
Then stoppe your eares, and like ULISSES waulke,
The SYREENES tunes, the carelesse often heares:
CROCUTA killes when shee doth frendly taulke:
The Crocodile, hathe treason in her teares.
In gallant fruicte, the core is ofte decay'd;
Yea poison ofte in cuppe of goulde assay'd.
Then, in your waies let reason strike the stroke,
ASPASIA shonne, althoughe her face doe shine:
But, if you like of HYMENAEUS yoke,
PENELOPE preferre, thoughe spinninge twine,
Yet if you like, how most to live in rest,
HIPPOLYTUS his life, suppose the best.