Зображення сторінки

And yet thou wilt, for I being pent in thee, Perforce'am thine, and all that is in me.

So now I have confest that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will;
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore to me, 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 fast doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use;
And sue a friend, came debtor for my fake,
So him I lose thro'


unkind abuse. Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me; He pays the whole, and yet I am not free.


Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet 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 seem right gracious,"
And in

will no fair

acceptance fhine ?
The sea 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.

If thy soul check thee that I come fo near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will;
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there ;
Thus far for love, my love-suit sweet fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
I 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,
Tho' in thy store's account I one must be :
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee.
· Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lov'st


my name is Will.

His Heart wounded by her Eye.

Thou blind fool, love, what doft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see 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 falfhood haft thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tyd ?
Why should my heart think that a several plot,
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not [place?
To put fair truth upon so foul a face ;

In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd,
And to this false plague are they now transferr’d.

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 lov’st elsewhere ; but in my sight,
Dear heart forbear to glance thine eye aside;
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy
Is more than my o'er-prest defence can bide? [might
Let me excuse thee; ah! my love well knows,
Her pretty looks have been my enemies,
And therefore from my face she turns my foes.
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.

Yet do not so, but since I am near flain,
Kill me out-right with looks, and rid my pain.

Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press
My tongue-ty'd 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,
Tho' not to love, yet love to tell me so:
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 so, nor thou bely’d,
Bear thine eyes strait, tho’thy proud heart go wide.

A Protestation.

In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleas'd to doat.

Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone :
But my five wits, nor my five fenfes can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee's
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vafsal wretch to be :

Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That the that makes ine fin, rewards my pain.

Love is my fin, and my dear virtue, hate;
Hate of sin, grounded on a sinful loving:
O! but with mine, compare thou thine own ftate,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving:
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments,
And feal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb’d others beds revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful, I love thee, as thou lov'it those,
Whom thine eyes woo, as mine importune thee;
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve to pity'd be.

If thou doft seek to have what thou dost hide,
By felf-example may'st thou be deny'd !

An Allufton,

Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away';
Sets down her babe, and makes all fwift dispatch,
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay:
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace,
Cries to catch her, whose busy care is bent

To follow that which Aies before her face;
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent.
So run'st thou after that which Aies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind.

So will I pray, that thou may'st have thy Will,
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

Life and Death.

Those lips that love's own hand did make,
Breath'd forth the found that said, I hate,
To me that languifh'd for her fake :
But when she saw my woful state,
Strait in her heart did mercy come ;
Chiding that tongue, that, ever sweet,
Was us'd in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus a-new to greet :
I hate, she alter'd with an end
That follow'd it, as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend,
From heaven to hell is flown

away. I hate, from hate away she threw, And sav'd my life, saying not you.

A Consideration of Death.

Poor soul! the center

finful earth, My finful earth these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls in costly clay? Why so large cost, having so fhort a lease, Dost thou upon thy faded mansion spend?

of my

« НазадПродовжити »