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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, fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,

Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckon'd none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy ftore's account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so 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 lovest me, for my name is Will.

CXXXVII.

Thou blind fool, Love, what doft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and fee not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,

Yet what the best 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' falsehood haft thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a feveral plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
Or mine eyes feeing this, say this is not, [place?
To put fair truth upon fo foul a face?

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.

When

CXXXVIII.

my love fwears 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 falfe fubtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her falfe-fpeaking tongue :
On both fides thus is fimple truth fuppreft.
But wherefore fays fhe not she is unjust?
And wherefore fay not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

CXXXIX.

O, call not me to justify the wrong

That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou loveft elsewhere; but in my fight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need'ft thou wound with cunning, when thy
might

Is more than my o'erpreff'd defence can bide?
Let me excufe thee: ah, my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face fhe turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries :
Yet do not fo; but since I am near slain,

Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

CXL.

Be wife as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Left forrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me fo;
As tefty fick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know;
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee :
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad flanderers by mad ears believed be.

That I may not be fo, nor thou belied,

Bear thine eyes ftraight, though thy proud hear; go wide..

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