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And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour The humble salve which wounded bosoms tits! Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent; But that your trespass now becomes a fee : For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me; Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent ?

No ;-let me be obsequions in thy heart, CXXI.

And take thou my oblation, poor but free, l'is better to be vile, than vile esteem'd,

Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, When not to be receives reproach of being; But mutual render, only me for thee. And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.

When most impeach'd, stands least in thy For why should others' false adulterate eyes

control. Give salutation to my sportive blood ? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, [good?

CXXVI. Which in their wilis count bad what I think O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power No.--I am that I am; and they that level Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, honr; At my abuses, reckon up their own:

Who hast by waning grown, and therein

shew'st I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel;

(be shewn; Thylovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not If nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, Unless this general evil they maintain

As thou goest onwards,still will pluck thee back, All men are bad, and in their badness reign. She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill

May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. CXXII.

Yet fear her, I thou minion of her pleasure; Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain She may detain, but not still keep her treasure:

Full character'a with lasting memory, Har audit, though delay'd, answerd must be,
Which shall above that idle rank remain, And her quietus is to render thee.
Beyond all date, even to eternity:

CXXVII.
Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;

In the old age black was not counted fair, Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part

Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.

But now is black beauty's successive heir, That poor retention could not so much hold,

And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: Nor need I tallies, thy dear love to score;

For since each hand hath puton nature's power, Therefore to give them from me was I bold,

Fairing the foul with art's false-borrow'd face, To trust those tables that receive thee more: Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy hour, To keep an adjunct to remember thee,

Put is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace. Were to import forgetfulness in me.

Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,

Her eyes so suited; and they mourners seem CXXIII.

At such, who, not born fair, no beauty lack, No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Slandering creation with a false esteen :

Thy pyramids, built up with newer might, Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe,
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; That every tongue says, beauty should look 50.

They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire

CXXVIII. What thou dost foist upon us that is old;

How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, And rather make them born to our desire,

Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds Than think that we before have heard them with thysweet fingers,when thou gentlysway'st Thy registers and thee I both defy, (told

The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Not wondering at the present nor the past;

Do I envy those jacks, that nimble leap For thy records and what we see do lie,

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Made more or less by thy continual haste:

Whilst my poor lips, which should that har This I do vow, and this shall ever be,

vest reap,

[stand! I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee!

At the wood's boldness by thee blushing

To be so tickled, they would change their state CXXIV.

And situation with those dancing chips, If my dear love were but the child of state, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

It might for fortune's bastard be unfather'a, Making dead wood more bless'd than living As subject to time's love, or to time's hate, Since sancy jacks so happy are in this. [lips.

Weeds anong weeds, or flowers with powers Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. No, it was builded far from accident;[gather'd. It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls

CXXIX. Under the blow of thralled discontent,

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls:

Is lust in action; and till action, lust It fears not policy, that heretic, [hours,

Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Which works on leases of short-number'd

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; But all alone stands hugely polític, (showers. Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight; That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with

Past reason hated; and, no sooner had, To this I witness call the fools of time,

Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait, Which die for goodness, who have liv'd for

On purpose laid to make the taker mad: crime.

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme: CXXT.

A bliss in proof,--and prov'd, a very woe: Were it aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring,

Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream:

All this the world well knows; yet none knows Or lay'd great bases for eternity, [ruining? well

which prove more short than waste or To shun the heaven that leads pen to this hell.

CXXX.

The statue of thy beauty thou wilt take, My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,

Coral is far more red than her lips' red : And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; So him I lose through my unkind abuse. If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her Him have I lost; thou hast both him and rue; head.

He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

CXXXV. But no such roses see I in her cheeks ;

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress More than enough'am I that vex thee still,

And will to boot, and will in over-plus: reeks.

To thy sweet will making addition thus I love to hear her speak,--yet well I know

Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go,- (ground: Shall will in others seem right gracious,

Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? My mistress, when she walks, treads on the

And in my will no fair acceptance shine And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
As any she, bely'd with false compare.

And in abundance addeth to his store ;
CXXXI.

So thou, being rich in will, add to thy will Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, (cruel; One will of mine, to make thy large will more!

As those whose beauties proudly make them Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; For well thou know'si to my dear doting heart Think all but one, and me in that one Will Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

CXXXVI.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold, If thy soul check thee, that I come so near,

Thy face hath not the power to make love
To say they err, I dare not be so bold, [groan. And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there ;

Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, Although I swear it to myself alone.

Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. And, to be sure that is not false I swear,

Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,

Ay, fill it fu with wills, and my will one. One on another's neck, do witness bear,

In things of great receipt with ease we prove; Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place.

Among a number one is reckon'd none : In nothing art thou black, save in thy deeds, And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. Then in the number let me pass untold,

Though in thy stores'account I one must be; CXXXII.

For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:

knowing thy heart, torment me with disdain; Make but my name thy love, and love that still, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, And then thou lov'st me,-for my name is Will.

Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven

CXXXVII. Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, | Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine Nor that full star that ushers in the even,

eyes, Doth half that glory to the sober west, That they behold, and see not what they see? As those two mourning eyes become thy face : They know what beauty is, see where it lies, 0, let it then as well beseem thy heart

Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, And suit thy pity like in every part. (grace,

Be anchord in the bay where all men ride, Then will I swear, beauty herself is black, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, And all they foul that thy complexion lack. Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd ?

Why should my heart think that a several plot, CXXXIII.

Which my heart knows the wide world's Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to

common place? groan

(me! Or mine eyes seeing this, say, this is not, For that deep wound it gives my, friend and

To put fair truth upon so foul a face? Is't not enough to torture me alone,

In things right true my heart and eyes have But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must err'd,

(ferr'd, Me from myself thy cruel eve hath tuken, [be? And to this false plague are they now trans

And my next self thou harder hast engross'd; Of him, myself and thee, I am forsaken;

CXXXVIII. A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. When my love swears that she is made of truth, Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, I do believe her, though I know she lies; But then my friend's heart let my poor heart That she might think me some untutor'd youth, bail ;

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Who e'er keep me, let my heart be his guard : Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,

Thou canst not then use rigour in my gacl : Although she kuows my daysare past the best, And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue; Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

On both sides thus is simple truth supptest

But wherefore says she not, she is unjust? CXXXIV.

And wherefore say not I, that I am old ? So now I have confess'd that he is thine,

O love's best habit is in seeming trust, And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will;

And age in love loves not to have years told Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous, and he is kind;

CXXXIX.
Ile learn'd but, surety-like, to write for me. O, call not me to justify the wrong

Cnder that bond that him as fast doth bind, That thy unkindness lays upon my beart;

Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace, tongue;

Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent Use power with power, and slay me not by art. To follow that which flies before her face, Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in iny sight, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;

Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside. So run'st thou after that which flies from thee, What need'st thou wound with cunning, when Whilst I thy babe chace thee afar behind; thy might

But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can 'bide? And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind; Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows So will I pray that thou may'st have thy will,

Her pretty looks have been mine enemies. If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. And therefrom my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:

CXLIV. Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Kill me out-right with looks, and rid my pain. Which like two spirits do suggest me still ;

The better angel is a man right fair,
CXL.

The worser spirit a woman, colour'd ill.
Be wise as thou art cruel ; do not press

To win me soon to hell, my female evil My tongue-ty'd patience with too much dis Tempteth my better angel from my side, dain;

And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express

Wooing his purity with her foul pride. The manner of my pity-wanting pain.

And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;

But being both from me, both to each friend, (As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, I guess one angel in another's hell: No news but health from their physicians Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, know;)

Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:

CXLV.
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,

Those lips that Love's own hand did make Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.

Breath'd forth the sound that said I hate, That I may not be so, nor thou bely'd,

To me that languish'd for her sake; Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud

But when she saw my woeful state, heart go wide.

Straight in her heart did mercy come,

Chiding that tongue, that ever sweet
CXLI.

Was us'd in giving gentle doom;
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes, And taught it thus a-new to greet;

For they in thee a thousand errors note. I hate, she alter'd with an end,
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, That follow'd it as gentle day

Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote, Doth follow night, who, like a fiend, Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune de From heaven to hell is flown away; lighted;

I hate from hate away she threw,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, And sav'd my life, saying--not you.
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited

CXLVI.
To any sensual feast with thee alone :
But my five wits, nor my five senses can

Poor sonl, the centre of my sinful earth, Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

Fool'd hy those rebel powers that thee ATTA Who lives unsway'd the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch

Paintivg thy ontward walls so costly gay? to be:

Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Only my plague thus far I count my gain,

Dost thou upon thy fading mansion speod ? That she that makes me sin, awards me pain. Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? CXLII.

Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,

And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving;

Buy terms divive in selling hours of dross; o, but with mine compare thou thine own state, so shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,

Within be fed, without be rich no more : And thou shall find it merits not reproving; Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,

And, death once dead, there's no more dying That have profand their scarlet ornaments,

then. And seal'd false bands of love as oft as mine

CXLVII. Robb'd others' beds revenues of their rents. My love is a fever, longing still Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those For that which longer nurseth the disease ; Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, thee :

The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows, My reason, the physician to my love, Thy pity may deserve to pitied bo.

Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, If thou dost scek to have what thou dost hide, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve, By self-example may'st thou be deny'd ! Desire is death, which physic did except.

Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
CXLIII.

And frantic-mad with ever-more unrest:
Lo, as a careful house-wife runs to catch My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,

One of her feather'd creatures broke away. At random from the truth rainly expressid: Sets down her babe, and makes all swift de- For I have sworn thee fair, and thought the e spatch

bright, In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

CXLVIII.

My soal doth tell my body that he may O me! what eyes hath love put in my head, Triunph in love; flesh stays no farther Which have no correspondence with true reason; sight?

But rising at thy name, doth point out thee Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,

That censures falsely what they see aright? He is contented thy poor drudge to be, If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.

What means the world to say it is not so ? No want of conscience hold it that I call If it be not, then love doth well denote Her--love, for whose dear love I rise and fall. Love's eye is not so true as all men's : no,

CLII. How can it ? O, how can Love's eye be true,

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?

But thou art twice forsworn, to me lovo No marvel then though I mistake my view;

swearing; The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears.

In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, 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, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most; CXLIX.

For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, Canst thon, O) cruell say I love thee not,

And all my honest faith in thee is lost. When I, against myself, with thee partake? For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kind

ness, Do I not think on thee, when I forgot

Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee, that I do call my friend ?

And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, On whom frowu'st thou that I do fawn upon ?

Or made them swear against the thing they

see; Nay, if thou low'rst on me, do I not spend

For I have sworn thee fair : more perjur'd I, Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in myself respect,

To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie!
That is so proud thy service to despise,

CLIII.
When all my best doth worship thy defect, Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep;
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes ?

Á maid of Dian's this advantage found, But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;

Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love CL.

A dateless lively heat, still to endure, 0, from what power hast thou this powerful and grew a seething bath,which yet men prove might,

Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. With insufficiency my heart to sway? But at my mistress' eye love's brand new fir'd, To make me give the lie to my true sight, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast And swear that brightness doth not grace the I sick withal, the help of bath desir'd," day?

And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, But found no cure : the bath for my help lies

That in the very refuse of thy deeds Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes.
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,

CLIV.
That in thy mind thy worst all best exceeds ?
Who tanght thee how to make me love thee The little love-god lying once asleep,

Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to

keep, (), though I love what others do abhor, 'With others thou should’st not abhor my The fairest votary took up that fire,

Came tripping by; but in her inaiden hand state; If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,

Which many legions of true hearts had

warm'd; More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.

And so the general of hot desire
CLI.

Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. Love is too young to know what conscience is; This brand she quenched in a cool well by,

Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love? Which from love's fire took heat perpetual, Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Growing a bath and healthful remedy

Leat guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall, For, thou betraying me, I do betray

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, My nobler part to my gross body's treason; Love's fire beats water, water cools not love.

[graphic][merged small]

From off a hill whose concave womb re-worded These often bath'd she in her fluxive eyes,
A plaintful story from a sistering vale, And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear;
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, Cry'd, 0 false blood ! thou register of lies,
And down I lay to list the sad-tun'd tale: What unapproved witness dost thou bear!
Ere long espy'd a fickle maid full pale, Ink would have seem'd more black and damned
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,

here. Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Big discontent so breaking their contents. Which fortified her visage from the sun, A reverend man that graz'd his cattle nigh, Whereon the thought might think sometime (Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew it saw

Of court, of city, and had let go by The carcase of a beauty spent and done. The swiftest hours,) observed as they flew : Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell And, privileged by age, desires to know rage,

{age. In brief, the grounds and motives of her woe. Some beauty peep'd through lattice of seard

So slides he down upon his grained bat, Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,

And comely-distant sits he by her side ; Which on it bad conceited characters,

When he again desires her, being sat, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine

Her grievance with his hearing to divide : That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, If that from him there may be anght apply'd, And often reading what contents it bears; Which may her suffering ecstacy assuage, As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, 'Tis promis'd in the charity of age. In clamours of all size, both high and low.

Father, she says, though in me you behold Sometimes her level'd eyes their carriage ride, The injury of many a blasting hour, As they did battery to the spheres intend; Let it not tell your judgment I am old; Sometime diverted their poor balls are ty'd

Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: To the orbed earth ; sometimes they do extend I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Their view right on; anon their gazes lend Fresh to myself, if I had self-apply'd To every place at once, and no where fix'd,

Love to myself, and to no love beside. The mind and sight distractedly commix'd

But woe is me! too early I attended Her hair, nor loose, nor ty'd in formal plat, A youthful suit (it was to gain my grace) Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; of one by nature's outwards so commended, For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd hat, That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face : Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place; Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, And when in his fair parts she did abide, And, true to bondage, would not break' from She was new lodg'd, and newly deified. thence,

His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; Though slackly braided in loose negligence. And every light occasion of the wind A thousand favours from a maund she drew

Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls, Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet,

What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find : Which one by one she in a river threw,

Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind ; Upon whose weeping margent she was set;

For on his visage was in little drawn, Like usury, applying wet to wet,

What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn. Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall Small shew of man was yet upon his chin; Where want cries some, but where excess begs His phoenix down began but to appear, all.

Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, of folded schedules had she many a one,

Whose bare out-brag'd the web it seemd to Which she perus'd, sigh'd, tore, and gave the

wear, flood;

Yet shew'd his visage by that cost most dear; Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone, And nice affections wavering stood in doubt Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;

If best 'twere as it was, or best without Found yet more letters sadly pen'd in blood, His qualities were beauteous as his form, With sleideå silk feat and affectedly

For maiden-tungu'd he was, and thereof free; Enswath d, and seal'd to curious secreoy: Yet, if inen mov'd him, was he such a storm

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