Understanding Sidney: Astrophil and Stella by Robert A. Albano - HTML preview

Fourth Song

Onely Ioy, now here you are,

Fit to heare and ease my care,

Let my whispering voyce obtaine

Sweete reward for sharpest paine; Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Night hath closde all in her cloke,

Twinkling starres loue-thoughts prouoke,

Danger hence, good care doth keepe, Iealouzie hemselfe doth sleepe; Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Better place no wit can finde,

Cupids knot to loose or binde;

These sweet flowers our fine bed too, Vs in their best language woo:

Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

This small light the moone bestowes

Serues thy beames but to disclose;

So to raise my hap more hie, Feare not else, none vs can spie;

Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. That you heard was but a mouse, Dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the house: Yet asleepe, me thinkes they say,

Yong fooles take time while you may; Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Niggard time threates, if we misse This large offer of our blisse, Long stay, ere he graunt the same: Sweet, then, while ech thing doth frame, Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Your faire Mother is abed,

Candles out and curtaines spred;

She thinkes you do letters write; Write, but first let me endite; Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Sweete, alas, why striue you thus? Concord better fitteth vs;

Leaue to Mars the force of hands,

Your power in your beautie stands; Take me to thee, and thee to mee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Wo to mee, and do you sweare Me to hate, but I forbeare?

Cursed be my destines all, That brought me so high to fall;

Soone with my death I will please thee:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.