Fast fixèd in my heart, I left the head,
From whence I doubt it will not be removed.
Ah, what unlucky chance that way me led?
O Love! thy force thou might'st elsewhere have proved!
And shewed thy power, where thou art not obeyed!
"The conquest's small, where no resist is made."
But nought, alas, avails it to complain;
I rest resolved, with patience to endure.
The fire being once dispersed through every vein,
It is too late to hope for present cure.
Now Philoparthen must new follies prove,
And learn a little, what it is to love!
These Sonnets following were written by the Author
(who giveth himself this feigned name of Philoparthen
as his accidental attribute), at divers times, and upon
divers occasions; and therefore in the form and
matter they differ, and sometimes are quite
contrary one to another: which ought not to
be misliked, considering the very nature
and quality of Love; which is
a Passion full of variety,
and contrariety
in itself.
I.
Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abstulit error.
Vnhappy Eyes! that first my heart betrayed,
Had you not seen, my grief had not been such!
And yet, how may I, justly, you upbraid!
Since what I saw delighted me so much?
But hence, alas, proceedeth all my smart:
Unhappy Eyes! that first betrayed my heart!