showers;
    Where Nightingales in Arden sit and sing
    Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers. 
    Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shall see thy Queene: 
    Loe! heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres,
    And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been,
    And heere to thee he sacrifiz’d his teares. 
      Fayre Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,
      And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon.

Amour 14

    Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries,
    I see the ugly face of my deformed cares,
    With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires,
    That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes. 
    Then, in these teares, the mirror of these eyes,
    Thy fayrest youth and Beautie doe I see
    Imprinted in my teares by looking still on thee: 
    Thus midst a thousand woes ten thousand joyes arise. 
    Yet in those joyes, the shadowes of my good,
    In this fayre limned ground as white as snow,
    Paynted the blackest Image of my woe,
    With murthering hands imbru’d in mine own blood: 
      And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes,
      My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize.

Amour 15

    Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror,
    Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring mee;
    And but appoint me for her Tormentor,
    Then for a Monarch will I honour thee. 
    My hart shall be the prison for my fayre;
    Ile fetter her in chaines of purest loue,
    My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre: 
    This punishment the pittilesse may moue. 
    With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes
    She’st quench her thirst as duly as they fall: 
    Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise,
    My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all. 
    Ile binde her then with my torne-tressed haire,
    And racke her with a thousand holy wishes;
    Then, on a place prepared for her there,
    Ile execute her with a thousand kisses. 
      Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee;
      Thus Ile plague her which hath so plagued mee.

Amour 16

Vertues Idea in virginitie, By inspiration, came conceau’d with thought:  The time is come deliuered she must be, Where first my loue into the world was brought.  Vnhappy borne, of all vnhappy day!  So luckles was my Babes nativity, Saturne chiefe Lord of the Ascendant lay, The wandring Moone in earths triplicitie.  Now, or by chaunce or heauens hie prouidence, His Mother died, and by her Legacie (Fearing the stars presaging influence) Bequeath’d his wardship to my soueraignes eye; Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to liue, Still empty gorg’d, with cares consumption pynde, Salt luke-warm teares shee for his drink did giue, And euer-more with sighes he supt and dynde: 
  And thus (poore Orphan) lying in distresse
Cryes in his pangs, God helpe the motherlesse.

Amour 17