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If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d: Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove;
[bow'd. Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes. Where all those pleasures live, that art can comprehend
[suffice; If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
[der; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonWhich is to me some praise, that I thy parts
admire : Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his
dreadful thunder, Which (not to anger bent) is musick and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost,
Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow;
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
8 daf'd] i. e. put off.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty ; Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight; Sorrow chang’d to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;
[morrow. For why? she sigh’d, and bade me come to
Were I with her, the night would post too soon ;
[morrow. Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of
three, That liked of her master as well as well might be, Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that
eye could see,
+ a moon) i. e. a month, Steevens's conjecture for the read ing of the old copy, “ an hour.”
Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love
did fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant
knight: To put in practice either, alas it was a spite
Unto the silly damsel. But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain,
[disdain : For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with Alas, she could not help it!
[day, Thus art with arms contending was victor of the Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;
[gay; Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady
For now my song is ended.
On a day (alack the day!)
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
My flocks feed not,
All is amiss :
Causer of this.
O frowning fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
More in women than in men remain. 5 Do not call it, fc.] This couplet is supplied from the song as given in Love's Labour's Lost, act iv. sc. 8.