Thou art as tyrannous, so 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.
Yet, in good faith, fome fay that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan:
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I fwear it to myself alone.
And to be fure that is not false I swear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is faireft in my judgement's place.
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
And thence this flander, as I think, proceeds.
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
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 gray cheeks of the east,
Nor that full ftar that ushers 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
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'st friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engrossed :
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;
A torment thrice threefold thus to be croffed.
Prison my heart in thy steel bofom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then use 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 confeff'd that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,
Myfelf I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free.
For thou art covetous and he is kind;
He learn'd but furety-like to write for me,
Under that bond that him as faft doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou ufurer, that put'st 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:
pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
Whoever hath her wish, thou haft thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus ;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy fweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe 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 still,
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 befeechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
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