Sonnet 58 To Prouerbe

As Loue and I, late harbour'd in one Inne,
With Prouerbs thus each other intertaine;
In loue there is no lacke, thus I beginne?
Faire words makes fooles, replieth he againe?
That spares to speake, doth spare to speed (quoth I)
As well (saith he) too forward as too slow.
Fortune assists the boldest, I replie?
A hasty man (quoth he) nere wanted woe.
Labour is light, where loue (quoth I) doth pay,
(Saith he) light burthens heauy, if farre borne?
(Quoth I) the maine lost, cast the by away:
You haue spunne a faire thred, he replies in scorne.
    And hauing thus a while each other thwarted,
    Fooles as we met, so fooles againe we parted.

Michael Drayton

Michael Drayton was an English poet who produced a variety of work, including historical poems, sonnets, and a vast poem on the geography of England. His most significant contribution to poetry is the long historical epic "Poly-Olbion" which describes the topography and history of England and Wales. Drayton's poetry often reflects his staunch patriotism and deep scholarly interest in English history.

Michael Drayton

Sonnets: Idea XXIX To The Senses

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

Sonet 43

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

Sonet 2 To the Reader of his Poems

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

Amour 40

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnets: Idea LIX To Proverbs

As Love and I late harboured in one inn,
With Proverbs thus each other entertain.
"In love there is no lack," thus I begin:
"Fair words make fools," replieth he again.
    "Who spares to speak, doth spare to speed," quoth I.
"As well," saith he, "too forward as too slow."
"Fortune assists the boldest," I reply.
"A hasty man," quoth he, "ne'er wanted woe!"
    "Labour is light, where love," quoth I, "doth pay."
Saith he, "Light burden's heavy, if far born."
Quoth I, "The main lost, cast the by away!"
    "You have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn.
    And having thus awhile each other thwarted,
    Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.

Michael Drayton

Sonnet 21

A witlesse Gallant, a young Wench that woo'd,
(Yet his dull Spirit her not one iot could moue)
Intreated me, as e'r I wish'd his good,
To write him but one Sonnet to his Loue:
When I, as fast as e'r my Penne could trot,
Powr'd out what first from quicke Inuention came;
Nor neuer stood one word thereof to blot,
Much like his Wit, that was to vse the same:
But with my Verses he his Mistres wonne,
Who doted on the Dolt beyond all measure.
But soe, for you to Heau'n for Phraze I runne,
And ransacke all APOLLO'S golden Treasure;
    Yet by my Troth, this Foole his Loue obtaines,
    And I lose you, for all my Wit and Paines.

Michael Drayton

From Eclogue vij

            Borrill.

Oh spightfull wayward wretched loue,
Woe to Venus which did nurse thee,
Heauens and earth thy plagues doe proue,
Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.
Thoughts griefe, hearts woe,
Hopes paine, bodies languish,
Enuies rage, sleepes foe,
Fancies fraud, soules anguish,
Desires dread, mindes madnes,
Secrets bewrayer, natures error,
Sights deceit, sullens sadnes,
Speeches expence, Cupids terror,
Malcontents melancholly,
Liues slaughter, deaths nurse,
Cares slaue, dotard's folly,
Fortunes bayte, world's curse,
Lookes theft, eyes blindnes,
Selfes will, tongues treason,
Paynes pleasure, wrongs kindnes,
Furies frensie, follies reason:
With cursing thee as I began,
Neither God, neither man,
Neither Fayrie, n...

Michael Drayton

Sonnet 31

To such as say thy loue I ouer-prize,
And doe not sticke to terme my praises folly,
Against these folkes that think them selues so wise,
I thus appose my force of reason wholly,
Though I giue more, then well affords my state,
In which expense the most suppose me vaine,
Would yeeld them nothing at the easiest rate,
Yet at this price, returnes me treble gaine,
They value not, vnskilfull how to vse,
And I giue much, because I gaine thereby,
I that thus take, or they that thus refuse,
Whether are these deccaued then, or I?
    In euery thing I hold this maxim still,
    The circumstance doth make it good or ill.

Michael Drayton

From Eclogue vij

Now fye vpon thee wayward loue,
Woe to Venus which did nurse thee,
Heauen and earth thy plagues doe proue,
Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.
What art thou but th' extreamst madnesse,
Natures first and only error
That consum'st our daies in sadnesse,
By the minds Continuall terror:
Walking in Cymerian blindnesse,
In thy courses voy'd of reason.
Sharp reproofe thy only kindnesse,
In thy trust the highest treason?
Both the Nymph and ruder swaine,
Vexing with continuall anguish,
Which dost make the ould complaine
And the young to pyne and languishe,
Who thee keepes his care doth nurse,
That seducest all to folly,
Blessing, bitterly doest curse,
Tending to destruction wholly:
Thus of thee as I began,
So againe I make an end,
Neith...

Michael Drayton

From England's Helicon

Faire Loue rest thee heere,
Neuer yet was morne so cleere,
Sweete be not vnkinde,
Let me thy fauour finde,
        Or else for loue I die.

Harke this pretty bubling spring,
How it makes the Meadowes ring,
Loue now stand my friend,
Heere let all sorrow end,
        And I will honour thee.

See where little Cupid lyes,
Looking babies in her eyes.
Cupid helpe me now,
Lend to me thy bowe,
        To wound her that wounded me.

Heere is none to see or tell,
All our flocks are feeding by,
This Banke with Roses spred,
Oh it is a dainty bed,
        Fit for my Loue and me.

Harke the birds in yonder Groaue,
How they chaunt vnto my Loue,
Loue be kind to me,
As I haue beene to thee,
        For thou hast wonne...

Michael Drayton