EDMUND SPENSER
If at Boord, tell her that my mouth can eat no meate;
If at her Virginals, tell her I can heare no mirth. Asked why? say, Waking Love suffcreth no sleepe;
Say that raging Love doth appall the weak stomackej
Say that lamenting Love marreth the Musicall. Tell her that her pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe;
Tell her that her beautie was wonte to feedc mine eyes;
Tell her that her sweete Tongue was wont to make me mirth. Nowe do I nightly waste, wanting my kindcly rest,
Nowe do I dayly starve, wanting my lively food ?
Nowe do I alwayes dye, wanting thy timely mirth. And if I waste, who will bewaile my heavy chaunce?
And if I starve, who will record my cursed end ?
And if I dye, who will saye, this was Immerito?
pi Prothalamion
CALME was the day, and through the trembling ayre Sweete-breathing Zcphyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titans beamcs, which then did glyster fayre; When I, (whom sullein care, Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay In Princes Court, and expectation vayne Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away, Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,) Walkt forth to ease my payne Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmcs; Whose rutty Bancke, the which his River hcmmes, Was paynted all with variable flowers, And all the mcades adorned with daintie gemmes Fit to decke maydcns bowres,
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