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Or at the least so long as brain and heart If nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, [back, Have faculty by nature to subsist;

As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part

She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.

May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
That poor retention could not so much hold, Yet fear her, 0 thou minion of her pleasure ;
Nor need I tallies, thy dear love to score ; She may detain, but not still keep her treasure:
Therefore to give them from me was I bold, Her audit, thou delay'd, answered must be,
To trust those tables that receive thee more: . And her quietus is to render thee.

To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
Were to import forgetfulness in me.


In the old age black was not counted fair,

Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: | But now is black beauty's successive heir, Thy pyramids built up with newer might

And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame : To me are nothing novel, nothing strange ; For since each hand hath put on nature's power, They are but dressings of a former sight. Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, What thou dost foist upon us that is old; | But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace. And rather make them born to our desire, Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, Than think that we before have heard them told. Her eyes so suited; and they mourners seem Thy registers and thee I both defy,

At such, who not born fair, no beauty lack, Not wondering at the present nor the past; Slandering creation with a false esteem; For thy records and what we see do lie,

Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, Made more or less by thy continual haste: That every tongue says, beauty should look so.

This I do vow, and this shall ever be,
I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee:


How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,

Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds If my dear love were but the child of state, With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st It might for fortune's bastard be unfather'd, The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, As subject to time's love, or to time's hate, Do I envy those jacks, that nimble leap Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, No, it was builded far from accident; [gather'd. Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent,

At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls : To be so tickled, they would change their state It fears not policy, that heretic,

And situation with those dancing chips, Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, O'er whom thy fingers walk with genile gait, But all alone stands hugely politic, [showers. Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips. That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, To this I witness call the fools of time,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. Which die for goodness, who have liv'd for crime.

CXXIX. cxxy.

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Were it aught to me I bore the canopy,

Is lust in action; and till action, lust With my extern the outward honoring, .

Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Or laid great bases for eternity,

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Which prove more short than waste or ruining? Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight, Have I not seen dwellers on form and favor Past reason hunted: and no sooner had, Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait, For compound sweet foregoing simple savor, On purpose laid to make the taker mad: Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent ?

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; No ;-let me be obsequious in thy heart, Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; And take thou my oblation, poor but free, A bliss in proof,—and prov'd, a very woe; Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, Before, a joy propos'd ; behind, a dream ; But mutual render, only me for thee.

All this the world well knows; yet none knows Hence, thou suborn'd informer ! a true soul,

well When most impeach'd, stands least in thy con To shun the heaven that leads men to this trol.

hell. CXXVI.

CXXX. O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Dost hold 'Time's ficklé glass, his sickle, hour; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st | If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st! | If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

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I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks ;

And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress

So now I have confess'd that he is thinc,

And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will ; reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine That music bath a far more pleasing sound;

Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still : I grant I never saw a goddess go,

But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, My mistress, when she walks treads on the

For thou art covetous, and he is kind; ground;

He learn'd but, surety-like, to write for me,

Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. And yet, by Heaven, I think my love as rare

The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, As any she bely'd with false compare.

Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,

And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake: CXXXI.

So him I lose through my unkind abuse.

Him bave I lost; thou hast both him and me; Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,

He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. As those whose beauties proudly make them

cruel ; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart

CXXXV. Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, Yet in good faith, some say that thee behold,

And will to boot, and will in over-plus ; Thy face hath not the power to make love |

More than enough am I that vex thee still, groan:

To thy sweet will making addition thus. To say they err, I dare not be so bold,

Wilt thou whose will is large and spacious, Although I swear it to myself alone.

Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine ? und, to be sure, that is not false I swear,

Shall will in others seem right gracious, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,

And in my will no fair acceptance shine ? One on another's neck do witness bear

The sea, all water, yet receives rain still, Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place.

And in abundance addeth to his store; In nothing art thou black, save in thy deeds,

So thou, being rich in will, add to thy will And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

One will of mine, to make thy large will more.

Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill ;

Think all but one, and me in that one Will, CXXXII. Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me,

CXXXVI. Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, And truly not the morning sun of heaven

And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Better becomes the gray cheeks of the east, Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. Nor that full star that ushers in the even,

Will will ful6l the treasure of thy love, Doth half that glory to the sober west,

Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one, As those two mourning eyes become thy face: In things of great receipt with ease we prove; 0, let it then as well beseem thy heart

Among a number one is reckoned none. To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee Then in the number let me pass untold, grace,

Though in thy stores' account I one must be ; And suit thy pity like in every part

For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold Then will I swear beauty herself is black,

That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: And all they foul that thy complexion lack, Make but my name thy love, and love that


And then thou lov'st me, for my name is CXXXIII.

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is't not enough to torture me alone,

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must eyes, be ?

That they behold, and see not what they see? Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, They know what beauty is, see where it lies, And my next self thou harder hast engross'd; Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. Of him, myself and thee, I am forsaken;

If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, A torment thrice three-fold thus to be cross'd. Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged books, But then my friend's heart let my poor heart | Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd bail ;

Why should my heart think that a several plot, Who e'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; | Which my heart knows the wide world's comThou canst not then use rigor in my gaol:

mon place? And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, | Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. | To put fair truth upon so foul a face?

In things right true my heart and eyes have | But my five wits, nor my five senses can err'd,

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, And to this false plague are they now trans Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, ferr'd.

Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be;

Only my plague thus far I count my gain, CXXXVIII.

That she that makes me sin, awards me pain.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies;

That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtilties.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Thus rainly thinking that she thinks me young, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving;
Although she knows my days are past the best, 0, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue; And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest. Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,
But wherefore says she not, she is unjust ? That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments,
And wherefore say not I, that I am old ?

And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine; O, love's best habit is in seeming trust.

Robb'd others' beds revenues of their rents. And age in love loves not to have years told : Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be. Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,

Thy pity may deserve to pity'd be.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, CXXXIX.

By self-example may'st thou be deny'd ! 0, call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;

CXLIII. Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;

Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch Use power with power, and slay me not by art. One of her feather'd creatures broke away, Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere ; but in my sight, Sets down her babe, and makes all swift despatch Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside.

In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; What need'st thou wound with cunning, when / Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace. thy might

Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent Is more than my o'erpress'd defence can 'bide ?

To follow that which flies before her face, Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; Her pretty looks have been mine enemies : So run'st thou after that which flies from thee, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, Whilst I thy Babe chace thee afar behind ; That they elsewhere might dart their injuries : But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,

And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind : Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain. So will I pray that thou may'st have thy Will,

If thou turn back, and my loud crying still CXL. Be wise as thou art cruel ; do not press

CXLIV. dy tongue-ty'd patience with too much disdain ; | Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express

Which like two spirits do suggest me still ; The manner of my pity-wanting pain.

The better angel is a man right fair, If I might teach thee wit, better it were,

The worser spirit a woman, color'd ill. Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so ;

To win me soon to hell, my female evil (As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,

Tempteth my better angel from my side, No news but health from their physicians know;) | Ano

And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,

Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And in my madness might speak ill of thee;
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,

And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,

Suspect I may, yet pot directly tell; Vad slanderers by mad ears believed be.

But being both from me, both to each friend, That I may not be go, nor thou bely'd,

I guess one angel in another's hell. Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, heart go wide.

Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

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In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors pote;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune de

Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:

Thoge lips that Love's own hand did make,
Breath'd forth the sound that said, I hate,
To me that languish'd for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue, that ever sweet
Was us'd in giving gentle doom;
| And taught it thus anew to greet;

I hate she alter'd with an end,

Who hateth thee that I do call my friend ? That follow'd it as gentle day

On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon ! Doth follow night, who like a fiend

Nay if thou low'rst on me, do I not spend From heaven to hell is flown away.

Revenge upon myself with present moan ? I hate from hate away she threw,

What merit do I in myself respect,
And sav'd my life, saying—not you.

That is so proud thy service to despise,
When all my best doth worship thy defect,

Commanded by the motion of thine eyes ?

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;

Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind.
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,

0, from what power hast thou this powerful Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ?

might, Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

| With insufficiency my heart to sway! Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end ?

To make me give the lie to my true sight, Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,

And swear that brightness doth not grace the And let that pine to aggravate thy store;

day? Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ;

Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, Within be fed, without be rich no more.

That in the very refuse of thy deeds So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,

men, There is such strength and warrantise of skill, And, death once dead, there's no more dying

10g That in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds!

Thor then,

Who taught thee how to make me love thee

more, CXLVII.

The more I hear and see just cause of hate ?

0, though I love what others do abhor, My love is as a fever longing still

With others thou should'st not abhor my state: For that which longer nurseth the disease;

If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,

More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire is death, which physic did except. Love is too young to know what conscience is :
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,

Yet who knows not, conscience is born of And frantic mad with evermore unrest;

love ? My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are, | Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, At random from the truth vainly express'd;

Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee For thou betraying me, I do betray bright,

My nobler part to my gross body's treason ; Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. My soul doth tell my body that he may

Triumph in love ; flesh stays no farther reason;

But rising at thy name, doth point out thee

As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,

He is contented thy poor drudge to be, Which have no correspondence with true sight?

To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.

No want of conscience hold it that I call
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright !

Her-love, for whose dear love I rise and fall.
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so ?
If it be not, then love doth well denote

Love's eye is not so true as all men's : no,
How can it ?

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
O how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears ?

| But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swear. No marvel then though I mistake my view;


In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me

| In vowing new hate after new love bearing. blind,

| But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee,

When I break twenty! I am perjur'd most; Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should

For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, find,

And all my honest faith in thee is lost:

For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindCXLIX.


Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; Canst thou, O cruel ! say I love thee not, And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, When I, against myself,' with thee partake ? Or made them swear against the thing they see; Do I not think on thee, when I forgot

For I have sworn thee fair : more perjur'd I, Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake ?

To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie !




Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep :

Blow, blow, thou winter windA maid of Dian's this advantage found,

Thou art not so unkind And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep

As man's ingratitude ; In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;

Thy tooth is not so keen, Which borrowed from this holy fire of love

Because thou art not seen, A dateless lively heat, still to endure,

Although thy breath be rude. And grew a geething bath, which yet men | Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: prove

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.

folly; But at my mistress' eye love's brand new-fired, Then, heigh-ho! the holly! The boy for trial needs would touch my

This life is most jolly! breast; I sick withal, the help of bath desired,

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter skyAnd thither hied, a sad distempered guest,

Thou dost not bite so nigh But found no cure; the bath for my help

As benefits forgot;

Though thou the waters warp, Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes. i

Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: CLIV.

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere

folly; The little love-god lying once asleep,

Then, heigh-ho! the holly! Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,

This life is most jolly ! While many nymphs that vowed chaste life to

Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire

Which many legions of true hearts had warmned:
And so the general of hot desire

Come away, come away, death,
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarmed.

And in sad cypress let me be laid ! This brand she quenched in a cool well by,

| Fly away, fly away, breath: Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,

| I am slain by a fair cruel maid. Growing a bath and healthful remedy

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall,

Oh, prepare it; Came there for cure, and this by that I

My part of death no one so true

Did share it.
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. SONGS.

A thousand, thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, oh! where

Sad true-love never find my grave,

To weep there.


UNDER the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note

Unto the gweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither ;

Here shall he see

No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Here shall he see

No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
These be rubies, fairy favors-

In those freckles live their savors.
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

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