Enjoy'd no fooner, but defpifed ftraight;
'Past reafon hunted; and no fooner had,
Past reason hated, as a fwallow'd bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in purfuit, and in poffeffion fo;
Had, having, and in queft to have, extreme;
A blifs in proof,-and prov'd, a very woe3;
Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream:
All this the world well knows; yet none knows
well
To fhun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the fun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red :
If fnow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no fuch roses fee I in her cheeks;
And in fome perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,-yet well I know
That musick hath a far more pleafing found;
I grant I never faw a goddess go,-
My mistress, when the walks, treads on the ground;
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any the bely'd with falfe compare.
Thou art as tyrannous, fo as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'ft to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
3 and prov'd a very woe ;] The quarto is here evidently corrupt. It reads: and prov'd and very woe. MALONE.
Yet, in good faith, fome fay that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan:
To fay they err, I dare not be fo bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And, to be fure that is not falfe I fwear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is faireft in my judgment's place.
In nothing art thou black, fave in thy deeds,
And thence this flander, as I think, proceeds.
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart, torment me with difdain;
Have put on black, and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning fun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full ftar that ufhers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the fober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face":
O let it then as well befeem thy heart
A thousand groans, but thinking on the face,
One on another's neck] So, in Hamlet:
"One woe doth tread upon another's beels,
So faft they follow." MALONE.
And truly not the morning fun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the caft,] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II:
-it ftuck upon him as the fun "In the grey vault of heaven.'
Nor that full far that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the fober weft,] Milton had per haps thefe lines in his thoughts, when he wrote the defcription of the evening in his fourth book of Paradife Loft:
"Now came ftill evening on, and twilight grey
"Had in her fober livery all things clad-
7 As thofe tavo mourning eyes become thy face:] Thus the old
To mourn for me, fince mourning doth thee grace, And fuit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I fwear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
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,
But flave to flavery my sweet'ft friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next felf thou harder haft engrofs'd;
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forfaken;
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crofs'd.
Prison my heart in thy fteel bofom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail ;
Who e'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then ufe rigour in my gaol:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
So now I have confess'd that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will;
Myfelf I'll forfeit, fo that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort ftill:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous, and he is kind;
copy. But the context, I think, clearly shows, that the poet wrote-mourning. So before:
"Have put on black, and living mourners be.”
The two words were, I imagine, in his time pronounced alike. In a Sonnet of our author's, printed by W. Jaggard, 1599, we
The fame Sonnet is printed in England's Helicon, 1600, and there the line stands :
He learn'd but, furety-like, to write for me,
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The ftatute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou ufurer, that put'ft forth all to use,
And fue a friend, came debtor for my fake;
So him I lofe through my unkind abuse.
Him have I loft; thou haft both him and me;
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
CXXXV.
Whoever hath her wifh, thou haft thy will,
And will to boot, and will in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vex thee ftill,
To thy fweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whofe will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchfafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others feem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The fea, all water, yet receives rain ftill,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in will, add to thy will
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.
CXXXVI.
If thy foul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind foul that I was thy will,
And will, thy foul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-fuit, sweet, fulfill.
Will will fulfill the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
The ftatute of thy beauty-] Statute has here its legal fignifi cation, that of a fecurity or obligation for money. MALONE.
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.] The modera editors, by following the old copy, in which the vowel I is here ufed inftead of ay, have rendered this line unintelligible.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove;
Among a number one is reckon❜d none.
Then in the number let me pafs untold,
Though in thy ftores' account I one must be ;
For nothing hold me, fo it please thee hold
That nothing me, a fomething fweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lov'ft me,-for my name is Will.
Thou blind fool, Love, what doft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and fee not what they fee?
They know what beauty is, fee where it lies,
Yet what the beft is, take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falfehood haft thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd?.
Why should my heart think that a feveral plot 3,
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
place?
Among a number one is reckon'd none.
Then in the number let me pafs untold, &c.] The fame con
ceit is found in Romeo and Juliet:
"Search among view of many: mine, being one,
May ftand in number, though in reckoning none.
Be anchor'd in the bay] So, in Meafure for Meafure: "Whilft my intention, hearing not my tongue,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd?] So, in Hamlet: "Grapple them to thy foul with books of steel."
Again, in Antony and Cleopatra:
"My heart was to thy rudder ty'd with strings."
3 Why Should my heart think that a feveral plot,] The reader will find a full account of a feveral or several plot, in a note on Love's Labour's Loft, Vol. II. p. 407. edit 1778. MALONE.
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