dearly hug in my enlarged arms
All the hid paths of heavenly Love I trace
And boldly listen to his secret charms.
Then clearly view I where true light doth rise,
And where eternall Night low-pressed lies.

Thus lose I not by leaving small delight
But gain more joy, while I my self suspend
From this and that; for then with all unite
I all enjoy, and love that love commends.
That all is more then loves the partiall soul
Whose petty loves th' impartiall fates controll.

Ah son! said he, (and laughed very loud)
That trickst thy tongue with uncouth strange disguize,
Extolling highly that with speeches proud
To mortall men that humane state denies,
And rashly blaming what thou never knew
Let men experienc'd speak, if they'll speak true.

Had I once lanc'd thy froward flinty heart
And cruddled bloud had thawn with living fire
And prickt thy drousie sprite with gentle smart
How wouldst thou wake to kindly sweet desire,
Thy soul fill'd up with overflowing pleasures
Would dew thy lips with hony-dropping measures.

Then wouldst thou caroll loud and sweetly sing
In honour of my sacred Deity
That all the woods and hollow hills would ring
Reechoing thy heavenly harmonie.
And eke the hardy rocks with full rebounds
Would faithfully return thy silver sounds.

Next unto me would be thy Mistresse fair,
Whom thou might setten out with goodly skill
Her peerlesse beauty and her virtues rare,
That all would wonder at thy gracefull quill.
And lastly in us both thy self shouldst raise
And crown thy temples with immortall bayes.

But now thy riddles all men do neglect,
Thy rugged lines of all do lie forlorn.
Unwelcome rymes that rudely do detect
The Readers ignorance. Men holden scorn
To be so often non-plusd or to spell,
And on one stanza a whole age to dwell.

Besides this harsh and hard obscuritie
Of the hid sense, thy words are barbarous
And strangely new, and yet too frequently
Return, as usuall plain and obvious,
So that the show of the new thick-set patch
Marres all the old with which it ill doth match.

But if thy haughty mind, forsooth, would deign
To stoop so low to hearken to my lore,
Then wouldst thou with trim lovers not disdeign
To adorn the outside, set the best before.
Nor rub nor wrinkle would thy verses spoil
Thy rymes should run as glib and smooth as oyl.

If th