No More Learning

O thou which haste, made him that first made thee;
O neare of kinne to all the Trinetie;
O Pallace where the kinge of all, and more; 5
Went in, and out, yet never opened doore;
Whose flesh is purer, than an others sperrit
Reache him our Prayers, and reach us down his merrit;
O bread of lyfe which sweld'ste up without Leaven;
O bridge which joynst togeather earth and heaven; 10
Whose eyes see me through these walles, and throughe glasse,
And through this fleshe as thorowe Cipres passe.
Behould a little harte made greate by thee
Swellinge, yet shrinkinge at thy majestie.
O dwell in it, for where soe ere thou go'ste 15
There is the Temple of the Holy Ghoste.


[O Frutefull Garden. _A25_: [TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. ]
_Chambers_]

[6 out, _Ed_: out _A25_]

[8 merrit; _Ed_: merrit, _A25_]

[9 Leaven, _Ed_: Leaven _A25_]




_To my Lord of Pembroke. _

Fye, Fye you sonnes of Pallas what madd rage
Makes you contend that Love's, or God, or page?
Hee that admires, his weaknes doth confess;
For as Love greater growes; soe hee growes less.
Hee that disdaines, what honor wynns thereby, 5
That he feeles not, or triumphes on a fly?
If love with queasie paine thy stomack move,
Soe will a slutt whome none dare touch; or love.
If it with sacred straines doe thee inspire
Of Poetrie; soe wee maye want admire. 10
If it thee valiant make, his ryvall hate
Can out doe that and make men desperate.
Yealdinge to us, all woemen conquer us,
By gentlenes we are betrayed thus.
We will not strive with Love that's a shee beaste; 15
But playinge wee are bounde, and yeald in Jest;
As in a Cobwebb toyle, a flye hath beene
Undone; so have I some fainte lover seene.
Love cannot take away our strength, but tame,
And wee less feele the thinge then feare the name; 20
Love is a temperate bath; hee that feeles more
Heate or could there, was hott, or could before.
But as Sun beames which would but norishe, burne,
Drawne into hollow Christall, soe we turne
To fire her bewties Lustre willingly, 25
By gatheringe it in our false treacherous eye.
Love is nor you, nor you; but I a balme,
Sword to the stiff, unto the wounded balme.
Prayes noe thinge adds, if it be infinite,
If it be nothing, who can lessen it? 30


[To my Lord of Pembroke. _A25_, _Chambers_]

[3 confess; _Ed_: confess _A25_]

[5 disdaines, _Ed_: disdaines _A25_]

[6 fly? _Ed_: fly; _A25_]

[19 tame, _Ed_: tame _A25_]

[27 I a balme, _A25_: Aye a calm, _Chambers conjectures_]




_Of a Lady in the Black Masque. _

Why chose shee black; was it that in whitenes
Shee did Leda equal? whose brightnes
Must suffer loss to put a bewtie on
Which hath no grace but from proportion.
It is but Coullor, which to loose is gayne, 5
For shee in black doth th'AEthiopian staine,
Beinge the forme that beautifies the creature
Her rareness not in Coullor is; but feature.
Black on her receaves soe strong a grace
It seemes the fittest beautie for the face. 10
Coullor is not, but in aestimation
Faire, or foule, as it is stild by fashion.
Kinges wearinge sackcloath it doth royall make;
Soe black<ne>s from her face doth beautie take.
It not in Coullor but in her, inheres, 15
For what she is, is faire, not what she weares;
The Moore shalle envye her, as much, or more,
As did the Ladies of our Court before.
The Sunn shall mourne that hee had westwarde beene,
To seeke his Love; whilst shee i'th North was seene. 20
Her blacknes lends like lustre to her eyes,
As in the night pale Phoebe glorifyes.
Hell, synne, and vice their attributes shall loose
Of black, for it wan, and pale whitenes choose,
As like themselves, Common, and most in use: 25
Sad of that Coulor is the late abuse.