Poet - Elizabeth I

I grieve and dare not show my discontent;
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate:
I am, and not: I freeze, and yet am burn'd,
Since from myself, my other self I turn'd.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it;
Stands and lies by me, does what I have done;
This too familiar care does make me rue it:
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.

Some gentler passions slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, Love, and so be kind,
Let me of float or sink, be high or low:
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die, and so forget what love e'er meant.

Untitled

When I was fair and young and favour graced me,
Of many was I sought, their mistress for to be:
But I did scorn them all, and answered them therefore,
'Go, go, go, seek some othere where:
Importune me no more.'

How many weeping eyes I made to pine with woe,
How many sighing hearts, I have no skill to show:
Yet I the prouder grew, and answered them therefore,
'Go, go, go, seek some other where:
Importune me no more.'

Then spake fair Venus' son, that proud victorious boy,
And said,'Fine Dame, since that you be so coy,
I will so pluck your plumes that you shall say no more,
"Go, go go, seek some other where:
Importune me no more."'

When he had spake these words, such change grew in my breast
The neither night nor day, since that, I could take any rest:
Than lo, I did repent that I had said before,
'Go, go, go, seek some other where:
Importune me no more.'

This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page