Sivut kuvina

Yet, I would not have all yet,

I can remember yet, that I He that hath all can have no more,

Something did say, and something did bestow; And since my love doth every day admit (store; Though I be dead, which sent me, I might be New growth, thou should'st have new rewards in Mine own executor, and legacy. Thou canst not every day give me thy heart, If thou canst give it, then thou never gav'st it:

I heard me say, tell her anon, Lovers riddles are, that though thy heart depart,

That myself, that is you, not I, It stays at home, and thou with losing sav'st it:

Did kill me, and when I felt me die, But we will love a way more liberal,

I bid me send my heart, when I was gone, Than changing hearts, to join us, so we shall

But I, alas ! could find there none.

(lie, Be one, and one another's all.

When I had ripp'd, and search'd where hearts should
It kill'd me again, that I, who still was true
In life, in my last will should cozen you.

Yet I found something like a heart,

For colours it and corners bad,

It was not good, it was not bad,
SWEETEST love, I do not go,

It was entire to none, and few had part:
For weariness of thee,

As good, as could be made by art,
Nor in hope the world can show

It seem'd, and therefore for our loss be sad,
A fitter love for me;

I meant to send that heart instead of mine,
But since that I

But oh! no man could hold it, for 't was thine.
Must die at last, 't is best,
Thus to use myself in jest
By feigned death to die;

Yesternight the Sun went hence,
And yet is here to day,

On do not die, for I shall hate
He hath no desire nor sense,

All women so, when thou art gone,
Nor half so short a way:

That thee I shall not celebrate,
Then fear not me,

When I remember thou wast one.
But believe that I shall make
Hastier journeys, since I take

But yet thou canst not die, I know;
More wings and spurs than be.

To leave this world behind is death;

But when thou from this world wilt go,
O bow feeble is man's power,

The whole world vapours in thy breath.
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,

Or if, when thou, the world's soul, goest,
Nor a lost hour recall!

It stay, 't is but thy carcass then,
But come, bad chance,

The fairest woman, but thy ghost;
And we join to 't our strength,

But corrupt worms, the worthiest men.
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us t advance.

O wrangling schools, that search what fire

Shall burn this world, had none the wit

Unto this knowledge to aspire,
When thou sigh'st, thou sigli'st no wind,
But sigh’st my soul away;

That this her fever might be it!
When thou weep'st unkindly kind,

And yet she cannot waste by this,
My life's blood doth decay.

Nor long endure this torturing wrong,
It cannot be

For more corruption needful is,
That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st ;

To fuel such a fever long.
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the life of me.

These burning fits but meteors be,

Whose matter in thee soon is spent.
Let not thy divining heart

Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee,
Forethink me any ill,

Are an unchangeable firmament.
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;

Yet 't was of my mind, seizing thee,
But think that we

Though it in thee cannot persever;
Are but laid aside to sleep:

For I had rather owner be
They, who one another keep

Of thee one hour, than all else ever.
Alive, ne'er parted be.

When last I dy'd (and, dear, I die
As often as from thee I go,
Though it be but an hour ago,
And lovers' hours be full eternity)

Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worship'd be:

Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Sorne lovely glorious nothing did I see;

But since my soul, whose child love is,

Only our love hath no decay:
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do, This no to morrow hath, nor yesterday;
More subtile than the parent is,

Running it never runs from us away,
Love must not be, but take a body too;

But truly keeps his first-last-everlasting day.
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid love ask, and now,

Two graves must hide thine and my corse : That it assume thy body, I allow,

If one might, death were no divorce, And fix itself in thy lips, eyes, and brow.

Alas! as well as other princes, we,

(Who prince enough in one another be) Whilst thus to ballast love, I thought,

Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears, And so more steadily thave gone,

Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears: With wares which would sink admiration

But souls where nothing dwells but love; I saw, I had Love's pinnace overfraught;

(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove Thy every bair for love to work upon

This, or a love increased there above, [remove. Is much too much, some fitter must be sought ; When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves

For, nor in nothing, nor iu things
Extreme, and scattering bright, can love inhere;
Then as an angel face, and wings

And then we shall be throughly bless'd:

But now no more than all the rest.
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my love's sphere;

Here upon Earth we' are kings, and none but we Just such disparity

Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be; As is 'twixt air and angel's purity,

Who is so safe as we? where none can do

Treason to us, except one of us two. 'Twist women's love, and men's will ever be.

True and false fears let us refrain:
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain

To write threescore, this is the second of our reign.


Stay, O sweet, and do not rise,
The light, that shines, comes from thine eyes;

The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.

Stay, or else my joys will die,
And perish in their infancy.

My name engrav'd herein,

Doth contribute my firmness to this glass, 'T is true, 't is day; what though it be?

Which ever since that charm hath been O wilt thou therefore rise from me?

As bard as that, which grav'd it, was; Why should we rise, because 't is light?

Thine eye will give it price enough, to mock Did we lie down, because 't was night?

The diamonds of either rock. Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,

'T is much that glass should be Should in despite of light keep us together. As all confessing and through-shine as I,

'T is more that it shows thee to thee, Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;

And clear reflects thee to thine eye. If it could speak as well as spy,

But all such rules love's magic can undo,
This were the worst that it could say,

Here you see me, and I see you.
That being well, I fain would stay,
And that I lov'd my heart and honour so,

As no one point nor dash,
That I would not from her, that had them, go. Which are but accessaries to this name,

The show'rs and tempests can outwash,
Must business thee from hence remove?

So shall all times find me the same ; Oh, that's the worst disease of love;

You this entireness better may fulfil,
The poor, the foul, the false, love can

Who have the pattern with you still.
Admit, but not the basied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth do

Or if too hard and deep
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo. This learning be, for a scratch'd name to teach,

It as a given death's-head keep,

Lovers' mortality to preach;

Or think this ragged bony name to be

My ruinous anatomy.
All kings, and all their favourites,

Then as all my souls be All glory of honours, beauties, wits,

Emparadis'd in you (in whom alone The Sun itself (which makes times, as they pass) I understand, and grow, and see) Is elder by a year now, than it was

The rafters of my body, bone, When thou and I first one another saw:

Being still with you, the muscle, sinew, and vein, All other things to their destruction draw;

Which tile this house, will come again.


Till-my return, repair

Nor can you more judge woman's thoughts by teats, And recompact my scatter'd body so,

Than by her shadow, what she wears. As all the virtuous powers, which are

O perverse sex, where none is true but she, Fix'd in the stars, are said to flow

Who's therefore true, because her truth kills me. Into such characters as graved be,

When those stars had supremacy.

So since this name was cat,
When love and grief their exaltation had,

No door 'gainst this name's influence shut;
As much more loving, as more sad,

I'll tell thee now (dear love) what thou shalt do 'T will make thee; and thou should'st, till I return, To anger destiny, as she doth us; Since I die daily, daily mourn.

How I shall stay, though she eloigne me thus,

And how posterity shall know it too ;
When thy inconsiderate hand

How thine may out-endure
Flings ope this casement, with my trembling name, 1

Sibyl's glory, and obscure To look on one, whose wit or land

Her, who from Pindar could allure, New battery to thy heart may frame,

And her, through whose help Lucan is not lame, Then think this name alive, and that thou thus

„And her, whose book (they say) Homer did find In it offend'st my genius.

and name. And when thy melted maid, Corrupted by thy lover's gold or page,

Study our manuscripts, those myriads His letter at thy pillow' hath laid,

Of letters, which have past 'twixt thee and me, Dispute thou it, and tame thy rage.

Thence write our annals, and in them will be If thou to him begin'st to thaw for this,

To all, whom lore's subliming fire invades,

Rule and example found;
May my name step in, and hide his.

There, the faith of any ground
And if this treason go

No schismatic will dare to wound,
To an overt act, and that thou write again;

That sees, how love this grace to us affords, In superscribing, my name flow

To make, to keep, to use, to be, these his records.
Into thy fancy from the pen,
So in forgetting thou remembrest right,

This book, as long liv'd as the elements,
And unaware to me shalt write.

Or as the world's form, this all-graved tomb,

In cipher writ, or new made idiom;
But glass and lines must be

We for love's clergy only' are instruments;
No means our firm substantial love to keep;

When this book is made thus, Near death inflicts this lethargy,

Should again the ravenous And thus I murmur in my sleep;

Vandals and Goths invade us, Impute this idle talk to that I go,

Learning were safe in this our universe, (verse.
For dying men talk often so.

Schools might learn sciences, spheres music, angels
Here love's divine (since all divinity

Is love or wonder) may find all they seek,

Whether abstracted spiritual love they like,
Their souls exhal'd with what they do not see;

Or loath so to amuse BLASTED with sighs, and surrounded with tears,

Faith's infirmities, they chuse Hither I come to seek the spring,

Something, which they may see and use; And at mine eyes, and at mine ears

For though mind be the Heaven, where love doth Receive such balm as else cures every thing : But O, self-traitor, I do bring

Beauty a convenient type may be to figure it. (sit, The spider love, which transubstantiates all,

Here more than in their books may lawyers find, And can convert manna to gall,

Both by what titles mistresses are ours,
And that this place may thoroughly be thought
True Paradise, I have the serpent brought.

And how prerogative these states devours,

Transferr'd from Love himself to womankind : ’T were wholesomer for me, that winter did

Who, though from heart and eyes Benight the glory of this place,

They exact great subsidies, And that a grave frost did forbid

Forsake him, who on them relies, These trees to laugh, and mock me to my face;

And for the cause honour or conscience give; But since I cannot this disgrace

Chimeras, vain as they, or their prerogative.
Endure, nor leave this garden, Love, let me
Some senseless piece of this place be;

Here statesmen, (or of them they which can read) Make me a mandrake, so I may grow here,

May of their occupation find the grounds, Or a stone fountain weeping out my year.

Love and their art alike it deadly wounds,

If to consider, what?t is, one proceed, Hither with crystal phjals, lovers, come,

In both they do excel, And take my tears, which are love's wine,

Who the present govern well, And try your mistress' tears at home,

Whose weakness none doth or dares tell; For all are false, that taste not just like mine ; In this thy book such will there something see, Alas! hearts do not in eyes shine,

As in the Bible some can find out alchymy.

Thus vent thy thoughts; abroad I 'll study thee, If, as in water stirr'd more circles be

As he remores far off, that great heights takes : Produc'd by one, love such additions take,

How great love is, presence best trial makes, Those, like so many sphères, but one Heaven make, But absence tries, how long this love will be; For they are all concentric unto thee; To take a latitude,

And though each spring do add to love new heat,
Sun, or stars, are fitliest view'd

As princes do in times of action get
At their brightest; but to conclude New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
Of longitudes, what other way bave we, No winter shall abate this spring's increase.
But to mark when and where the dark eclipses be?



Love, any devil else but you
Would for a giv'n soul give something too;
At court your fellows every day
Give th' art of rhyming, huntmanship, or play,
For them, which were their own before;
Only I've nothing, which gave more,
But am, alas ! by being lowly lower.

I ask no dispensation now
To falsify a tear, a sigh, a vow,
I do not sue from thee to draw
A non obstante on Nature's law;
These are prerogatives, they inhere
In thee and thine; none should forswear,
Except that he Love's minion were.

Good we must love, and must hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good still ;

But there are things indifferent,
Which we may neither bate nor love,
But one, and then another prove,

As we shall find out fancy bent. Jf then at first wise Nature had Made women either good or bad,

Then some we might hate, and some chuse,
But since she did them so create,
That we may neither love nor hate,

Only this rests, all all may use.
If they were good, it would be seen,
Good is as visible as green,

And to all eyes itself betrays:
If they were bad, they could not last,
Bad doth itself and others waste,

So they deserve nor blame nor praise.
But they are ours, as fruits are onrs,
He that but tastes, he that devours,

And he that leaves all, doth as well ; Chang'd loves are but chang'd sorts of meat ; And when he hath the kernel eat,

Who doth not fing away the shell ?

Give me thy weakness, make me blind
Both ways, as thou, and thine, in eyes and mind:
Love! let me never know that this
Is love, or that love childish is.
Let me not know that others know
That she knows my pains, lest that so
A tender shame make me mine own new woe.

I SCARCE believe my love to be so pure

As I had thought it was,

Because it doth endure Vicissitude and season, as the grass ; Metbinks I lied all winter, when I swore My love was infinite, if spring make 't more. But if this medicine love, which cures all sorrow With more, not only be no quintessence, But mix'd of all stuffs, vexing soul or sense, And of the Sun his active vigour borrow, Love's not so pure an abstract, as they use To say, which have no mistress but their Muse; But, as all else, being elemented too, Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do. And yet no greater, bot more eminent,

Love by the spring is grown ;

As in the firmament
Stars by the Sun are not enlarg'd, but shown.
Gentle love-deeds, as blossoms on a bough,
From love's awakened root do bud out now.

If thou give nothing, yet thou 'rt just,
Because I would not thy first motions trust:
Small towns which stand stiff, till great shot
Enforce them, by war's law condition not;
Such in love's warfare is my case,
I may not article for grace,
Having put Love at last to show this face.
This face, by which he could command
And change th' idolatry of any land;
This face, which, wheresoe'er it comes,
Can call vow'd men from cloisters, dead from tombs,
And melt both poles at once, and store
Deserts with cities, and make more
Mines in the earth, than quarries were before.
For this Love is enrag'd with me,
Yet kills not; if I must example be
To future rebels; if th’ unborn
Must learn, by my being cut up and torn ;
Kill and dissect me, Love! for this
Torture against thine own end is,
Rack'd carcasses make ill anatomies.

CONFINED LOVE. Some man, unworthy to be possessor, Of old or new love, himself being false or weak,

Thought his pain and shame would be lesser If on womankind he might his anger wreak,

And thence a law did grow,

Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more, One might but one man know;

When a tear falls, that thou fallst, which it bore; But are other creatures so?...

So thou and I are nothing then, when on a diven

shore. Are Sun, Moon, or stars, by law forbidden

On a round ball
To smile where they list, or lend away their light?
Are birds divorc'd, or are they chidden

A workman, that hath copies by, can lay.
If they leave their mate, or lie abroad all night?

An Europe, Afric, and an Asia, Beasts do no joiutures lose,

And quickly make that, which was nothing, all : :

So doth cach tear, Though they new lovers choose,

Which thee doth wear, But we are made worse than those.

A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,

Till thy tears mix'd with mine do overflow Whoe'er rigg'd fair ships to lie in harbours,

This world, by waters sent from thee, my Hear'a And not to seek lands, or not to deal with all ?

dissolved so. Or build fair houses, set trees and arbours, Only to lock up, or else to let them fall ?

O'more than Moon, Good is not good, unless :

Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere;
A thousand it possess,
But doth waste with greediness.

Weep me not dead in thine arms, but forbear
To teach the sea, what it may do too soon ;

Let not the wind

Example find

To do me more harm than it purposeth:

Since thou and I sigh one another's breath,

Whoe'er sigbs most, is cruelest, and hastes the Dear love, for nothing less than thee

other's death. Would I have broke this happy dream,

It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy.
Therefore thou wak'dst me wisely; yet
My dream thou brok'st not, but continued'st it:

Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truth, and fables histories;

Some that have deeper digg'd Love's mine than 1, Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best

Say, where his centric happiness doth lie:
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.

I've lov'd, and got, and told,
But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,

I should not find that hidden mystery ;
As lightning or a taper's light,

Oh, 't is imposture all:
Tbine eyes, and not thy noise, wak'd me;

And as no chymic yet th' elixir got,
Yet I thought thee

But glorifies his pregnant pot, (For thou lov'st truth) an angel at first sight,

If by the way to him befall But when I saw thou saw'st my heart,

Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal, And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art,

So lovers dream a rich and long delight, When thou knew'st what I dreamt, then thou knew'st when

But get a winter-seeming summer's night. Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then;

Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day, I must confess, it could not choose but be

Shall we for this vain bubble's shadow pay? Profane to think thee any thing but thee.

Ends love in this, that my man

Can be as happy as I; if he can Coming and staying show'd thee thee,

Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play! But rising makes me doubt, that now

That loving wretch that swears,
Thou art not thou.

'T is not the bodies marry, but the minds,
That love is weak, whese fear's as strong as he; Which he in her angelic finds,
"T is not all spirit, pure and brave,

Would swear as justly, that he hears, If mixture it of fear, shame, honour, have, In that day's rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres. Percbance as torches, which must ready be,

Hope not for mind in women; at their best Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me, Sweetness and wit, they 're but mummy possest. Thou cam'st to kindle, goest to come: then I Will dream that hope again, but else would die. ,

A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING. WHOEVER guesses, thinks, or dreams he knows

Who is my mistress, wither by this curse;
Let me pour forth

Him only for his purse
My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,

May some dull whore to love dispose, For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear: And then yield unto all that are his foes; And by this mintage they are something worth, May he be scoru'd by one, whom all else scorn, For thus they be

Forswear to others, what to her h’ hath sword, Pregnant of thee;

With fear of missing, shame of getting torn.

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