cease And threescoore yeare would make the world away Let those whom nature hath not made for store Harsh featurelesse and rude barrenly perrish Looke whom she best indow'd she gaue the more Which bountious guift thou shouldst in bounty cherrish She caru'd thee for her seale and ment therby Thou shouldst print more not let that coppy die 12 WHen I doe count the clock that tels the time And see the braue day sunck in hidious night When I behold the violet past prime And sable curls or siluer'd ore with white When lofty trees I see barren of leaues Which erst from heat did canopie the herd And Sommers greene all girded vp in sheaues Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard Then of thy beauty do I question make That thou among the wastes of time must goe Since sweets and beauties do them-selues forsake And die as fast as they see others grow And nothing gainst Times sieth can make defence Saue breed to braue him when he takes thee hence 13 O That you were your selfe but loue you are No longer yours then you your selfe here liue Against this cumming end you should prepare And your sweet semblance to some other giue So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination then you were You selfe again after your selfes decease When your sweet issue your sweet forme should beare Who lets so faire a house fall to decay Which husbandry in honour might vphold Against the stormy gusts of winters day And barren rage of deaths eternall cold O none but vnthrifts deare my loue you know You had a Father let your Son say so 14 NOt from the stars do I my iudgement plucke And yet me thinkes I haue Astronomy But not to tell of good or euil lucke Of plagues of dearths or seasons quallity Nor can I fortune to breese mynuits tell Pointing to each his thunder raine and winde Or say with Princes if it shal go wel By oft predict that I in heauen finde But from thine eies my knowledge I deriue And constant stars in them I read such art As truth and beautie shal together thriue If from thy selfe to store thou wouldst conuert Thy end is Truthes and Beauties doome and date 15 WHen I consider euery thing that growes Holds in perfection but a little moment That this huge stage presenteth nought but showes Whereon the Stars in secret influence comment When I perceiue that men as plants increase Cheared and checkt euen by the selfe-same skie Vaunt in their youthfull sap at height decrease And were their braue state out of memory Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight Where wastfull time debateth with decay To change your day of youth to sullied night And all in war with Time for loue of you As he takes from you I ingraft you new 16 BVt wherefore do not you a mightier waie Make warre vppon this bloudie tirant time And fortifie your selfe in your decay With meanes more blessed then my barren rime Now stand you on the top of happie houres And many maiden gardens yet vnset With vertuous wish would beare your liuing flowers Much liker then your painted counterfeit So should the lines of life that life repaire Which this Times pensel or my pupill pen Neither in inward worth nor outward faire Can make you liue your selfe in eies of men To giue away your selfe keeps your selfe still And you must liue drawne by your owne sweet skill 17 WHo will beleeue my verse in time to come If it were fild with your most high deserts Which hides your life and shewes not halfe your parts If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces The age to come would say this Poet lies Such heauenly touches nere toucht earthly faces So should my papers yellowed with their age Be scorn'd like old men of lesse truth then tongue And your true rights be termd a Poets rage And stretched miter of an Antique song But were some childe of yours aliue that time You should liue twise in it and in my rime 18. SHall I compare thee to a Summers day Thou art more louely and more temperate Rough windes do shake the darling buds of Maie And Sommers lease hath all too short a date Sometime too hot the eye of heauen shines And often is his gold complexion dimm'd And euery faire from faire some-time declines By chance or natures changing course vntrim'd But thy eternall Sommer shall not fade Nor loose possession of that faire thou ow'st Nor shall death brag thou wandr'st in his shade When in eternall lines to time thou grow'st So long as men can breath or eyes can see So long liues this and this giues life to thee 19 DEuouring time blunt thou the Lyons pawes And make the earth deuoure her owne sweet brood Plucke thee keene teeth from the fierce Tygers yawes And burne the long liu'd Phaenix in her blood Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st And do what ere thou wilt swift-footed time To the wide world and all her fading sweets But I forbid thee one most hainous crime O carue not with thy howers my loues faire brow Nor draw noe lines there with thine antique pen Him in thy course vntainted doe allow For beauties patterne to succeding men Yet doe thy worst ould Time dispight thy wrong My loue shall in my verse euer liue young 20 A Womans face with natures owne hand painted Haste thou the Master Mistris of my passion A womans gentle hart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false womens fashion An eye more bright then theirs lesse false in rowling Gilding the obiect where-vpon it gazeth A man in hew all Hews in his controwling Which steales mens eyes and womens soules amaseth And for a woman wert thou first created Till nature as she wrought thee fell a dotinge And by addition me of thee defeated By adding one thing to my purpose nothing But since she prickt thee out for womens pleasure Mine be thy loue and thy loues vse their treasure 21 SO is it not with me as with that Muse Stird by a painted beauty to his verse Who heauen it selfe for ornament doth vse And euery faire with his faire doth reherse Making a coopelment of proud compare With Sunne and Moone with earth and seas rich gems With Aprills first borne flowers and all things rare That heauens ayre in this huge rondure hems O let me true in loue but truly write And then beleeue me my loue is as faire As any mothers childe though not so bright As those gould candells fixt in heauens ayer Let them say more that like of heare-say well I will not prayse that purpose not to sell. 22 MY glasse shall not perswade me I am ould So long as youth and thou are of one date But when in thee times forrwes I behould Then look I death my daies should expiate For all that beauty that doth
Nor gates of steele so strong but time decayes O fearefull meditation where alack Shall times best Iewell from times chest lie hid Or what strong hand can hold his swift foote back Or who his spoile or beautie can forbid O none vnlesse this miracle haue might That in black inck my loue may still shine bright 66 TYr'd with all these for restfull death I cry As to behold desert a begger borne And needie Nothing trimd in iollitie And purest faith vnhappily forsworne And gilded honor shamefully misplast And maiden vertue rudely strumpeted And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd And strength by limping sway disabled And arte made tung-tide by authoritie And Folly Doctor-like controuling skill And simple-Truth miscalde Simplicitie And captiue-good attending Captaine ill Tyr'd with all these from these would I be gone Saue that to dye I leaue my loue alone 67 AH wherefore with infection should he liue And with his presence grace impietie That sinne by him aduantage should atchiue And lace it selfe with his societie Why should false painting immitate his cheeke And steale dead seeing of his liuing hew Why should poore beautie indirectly seeke Roses of shaddow since his Rose is true Why should he liue now nature banckrout is Beggerd of blood to blush through liuely vaines For she hath no exchecker now but his And proud of many liues vpon his gaines O him she stores to show what welth she had In daies long since before these last so bad 68 THus is his cheeke the map of daies out-worne When beauty liu'd and dy'ed as flowers do now Before these bastard signes of faire were borne Or durst inhabit on a liuing brow Before the goulden tresses of the dead The right of sepulchers were shorne away To liue a scond life on second head Ere beauties dead fleece made another gay In him those holy antique howers are seene Without all ornament it selfe and true Making no summer of an others greene Robbing no ould to dresse his beauty new And him as for a map doth Nature store To shew faulse Art what beauty was of yore 69 THose parts of thee that the worlds eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend All toungs the voice of soules giue thee that end Vttring bare truth euen so as foes Commend Their outward thus with outward praise is crownd But those same toungs that giue thee so thine owne In other accents doe this praise confound By seeing farther then the eye hath showne They looke into the beauty of thy mind And that in guesse they measure by thy deeds Then churls their thoughts although their eies were kind To thy faire flower ad the rancke smell of weeds But why thy odor matcheth not thy show The solye is this that thou doest common grow 70 THat thou are blam'd shall not be thy defect For slanders marke was euer yet the faire The ornament of beauty is suspect A Crow that flies in heauens sweetest ayre So thou be good slander doth but approue Their worth the greater beeing woo'd of time For Canker vice the sweetest buds doth loue And thou present'st a pure vnstayined prime Thou hast past by the ambush of young daies Either not assayld or victor beeing charg'd Yet this thy praise cannot be soe thy praise To tye vp enuy euermore inlarged If some suspect of ill maskt not thy show Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts shouldst owe. 71 NOe Longer mourne for me when I am dead Then you shall heare the surly sullen bell Giue warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vildest wormes to dwell Nay if you read this line remember not The hand that writ it for I loue you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe O if I say you looke vpon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay Do not so much as my poore name reherse But let your loue euen with my life decay Least the wise world should looke into your mone And mocke you with me after I am gon 72 O Least the world should taske you to recite What merit liu'd in me that you should loue After my death deare loue for get me quite For you in me can nothing worthy proue Vnlesse you would deuise some vertuous lye To doe more for me then mine owne desert And hang more praise vpon deceased I Then nigard truth would willingly impart O least your true loue may seeme falce in this That you for loue speake well of me vntrue My name be buried where my body is And liue no more to shame nor me nor you For I am shamd by that which I bring forth And so should you to loue things nothing worth 73 THat time of yeeare thou maist in me behold When yellow leaues or none or few doe hange Vpon those boughes which shake against the could Bare rn'wd quiers where late the sweet birds sang In me thou seest the twi-light of such day As after Sun-set fadeth in the West Which by and by blacke night doth take away Deaths second selfe that seals vp all in rest In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lye As the death bed whereon it must expire Consum'd with that which it was nurrisht by This thou perceu'st which makes thy loue more strong To loue that well which thou must leaue ere long 74 BVt be contented when that fell arest With out all bayle shall carry me away My life hath in this line some interest Which for memoriall still with thee shall stay When thou reuewest this thou doest reuew The very part was consecrate to thee The earth can haue but earth which is his due My spirit is thine the better part of me So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life The pray of wormes my body being dead The coward conquest of a wretches knife To base of thee to be remembred The worth of that is that which it containes And that is this and this with thee remaines 75 SO are you to my thoughts as food to life Or as sweet season'd shewers are to the ground And for the peace of you I hold such strife As twixt a miser and his wealth is found Now proud as an inioyer and anon Doubting the filching age will steale his treasure Now counting best to be with you alone Then betterd that the world may see my pleasure Some-time all ful with feasting on your sight And by and by cleane starued for a looke Possessing or pursuing no delight Saue what is had or must from you be tooke Thus do I pine and surfet day by day Or gluttoning on all or all away 76 WHy is my verse so barren of new pride So far from variation or quicke change Why with the time do I not glance aside To new found methods and to compounds strange Why write I still all one euer the same And keepe inuention in a noted weed That
couer thee Is but the seemely rayment of my heart Which in thy brest doth liue as thine in me How can I then be elder then thou art O therefore loue be of thy selfe so wary As I not for my selfe but for thee will Bearing thy heart which I will keepe so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill Presume not on thy heart when mine is slaine Thou gau'st me thine not to giue backe againe 23 AS an vnperfect actor on the stage Who with his feare is put besides his part Or some fierce thing repleat with too much rage Whose strengths abondance weakens his owne heart So I for feare of trust forget to say The perfect ceremony of loues right And in mine owne loues strength seeme to decay Ore-charg'd with burthen of mine owne loues might O let my books be then the eloquence And domb presagers of my speaking brest Who pleade for loue and look for recompence More then that tonge that more hath more exprest O learne to read what silent loue hath writ To heare wit eies belongs to loues fine wiht 24 MIne eye hath play'd the painter and hath steeld Thy beauties forme in table of my heart My body is the frame wherein ti 's held And perspectiue it is best Painters art For through the Painter must you see his skill To finde where your true image pictur'd lies Which in my bosomes shop is hanging stil That hath his windowes glazed with thine eyes Now see what good-turnes eyes for eies haue done Mine eyes haue drawne thy shape and thine for me Are windowes to my brest where-through the Sun Delights to peepe to gaze therein on thee Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art They draw but what they see know not the hart 25 LEt those who are in fauor with their stars Of publike honour and proud titles bost Whilst I whome fortune of such tryumph bars Vnlookt for ioy in that I honour most Great Princes fauorites their faire leaues spread But as the Marygold at the suns eye And in them-selues their pride lies buried For at a frowne they in their glory die The painefull warrier famosed for worth After a thousand victories once foild Is from the booke of honour rased quite And all the rest forgot for which he foild Then happy I that loue and am beloued Where I may not remoue nor be remoued 26 LOrd of my loue to whome in vassalage Thy merrit hath my dutie strongly knit To thee I send this written ambassage To witnesse duty not to shew my wit Duty so great which wit so poore as mine May make seeme bare in wanting words to shew it But that I hope some good conceipt of thine In thy soules thought all naked will bestow it Til whatsoeuer star that guides my mouing Points on me gratiously with faire aspect And puts apparrell on my tottered louing To show me worthy of their sweet respect Then may I dare to boast how I doe loue thee Til then not show my head where thou maist proue me 27 WEary with toyle I hast me to my bed The deare repose for lims with trauaill tired But then begins a iourny in my head To worke my mind when boddies work 's expired For then my thoughts from far where I abide Intend a zelous pilgrimage to thee And keepe my drooping eye-lids open wide Looking on darknes which the blind doe see Saue that my soules imaginary sight Presents their shaddoe to my sightles view Which like a iewell hunge in gastly night Makes blacke night beautious and her old face new Loe thus by day my lims by night my mind For thee and for my selfe noe quiet finde 28 HOw can I then returne in happy plight That am debard the benifit of rest When daies oppression is not eazd by night But day by night and night by day oprest And each though enimes to ethers raigne Doe in consent shake hands to torture me The one by toyle the other to complaine How far I toyle still farther off from thee I tell the Day to please him thou art bright And do'st him grace when clouds doe blot the heauen So flatter I the swart complexiond night When sparkling stars twire not thou guil'st th' eauen But day doth daily draw my sorrowes longer And night doth nightly make greefes length seeme stronger 29 WHen in disgrace with Fortune and mens eyes I all alone beweepe my out-cast state And trouble deafe heauen with my bootlesse cries And looke vpon my selfe and curse my fate Wishing me like to one more rich in hope Featur'd like him like him with friends possest Desiring this mans art and that mans skope With what I most inioy contented least Yet in these thoughts my selfe almost despising Haplye I thinke on thee and then my state Like to the Larke at breake of daye arising From sullen earth sings himns at Heauens gate For thy sweet loue remembred such welth brings That then I skorne to change my state with Kings 30 WHen to the Sessions of sweet silent thought I sommon vp remembrance of things past I sigh the lacke of many a thing I sought And with old woes new waile my deare times waste Then can I drowne an eye vn-vs'd to flow For precious friends hid in deaths dateles night And weepe a fresh loues long since canceld woe And mone th' expence of many a vannisht sight Then can I greeue at greeuances fore-gon And heauily from woe to woe tell ore The sad account of fore-bemoned mone Which I new pay as if not payd before But if the while I thinke on thee deare friend All losses are restord and sorrowes end 31 Thy bosome is indeared with all hearts Which I by lacking haue supposed dead And there raignes Loue and all Loues louing parts And all those friends which I thought buried How many a holy and obsequious teare Hath deare religious loue stolne from mine eye As interest of the dead which now appeare But things remou'd that hidden in there lie Thou art the graue where buried loue doth liue Hung with the tropheis of my louers gon Who all their parts of me to thee did giue That due of many now is thine alone Their images I lou'd I view in thee And thou all they hast all the all of me 32 IF thou suruiue my well contented daie When that churle death my bones with dust shall couer And shalt by fortune once more re-suruay These poore rude lines of thy deceased Louer Compare them with the bett'ring of the time And though they be out-stript by euery pen Reserue them for my loue not for their rime Exceeded by the hight of happier men Oh then voutsafe me but this louing thought Had my friends Muse growne with this growing age A dearer birth then this his loue had brought To march in ranckes of better equipage But since he died and Poets better proue Theirs for their stile I le read his for his loue 33 FVll many a glorious morning haue I seene Flatter
nor the laies of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odor and in hew Could make me any summers story tell Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew Nor did I wonder at the Lillies white Nor praise the deepe vermillion in the Rose They weare but sweet but figures of delight Drawne after you you patterne or all those Yet seem'd it Winter still and you away As with your shaddow I with these did play 99 THe forward violet thus did I chide Sweet theefe whence didst thou steale thy sweet that smels If not from my loues breath the purple pride Which on thy soft checke for complexion dwells In my loues veines thou hast too grosely died The Lillie I condemned for thy hand And buds of marierom had stolne thy haire The Roses fearefully on thornes did stand Our blushing shame an other white dispaire A third nor red nor white had stolne of both And to his robbry had annext thy breath But for his theft in pride of all his growth A vengfull canker eate him vp to death More flowers I noted yet I none could see But sweet or culler it had stolne from thee 100 WHere art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long To speake of that which giues thee all thy might Spendst thou thy furie on some worthlesse songe Darkning thy powre to lend base subiects light Returne forgetfull Muse and straight redeeme In gentle numbers time so idely spent Sing to the eare that doth thy laies esteeme And giues thy pen both skill and argument Rise resty Muse my loues sweet face suruay If time haue any wrincle grauen there If any be a Satire to decay And make times spoiles dispised euery where Giue my loue fame faster then time wasts life So thou preuenst his sieth and crooked knife 101 OH truant Muse what shal be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty di'd Both truth and beauty on my loue depends So dost thou too and therein dignifi'd Make answere Muse wilt thou not haply saie Truth needs no collour with his collour fixt Beautie no pensell beauties truth to lay But best is best if neuer intermixt Because he needs no praise wilt thou be dumb Excuse not silence so for 't lies in thee To make him much out-liue a gilded tombe And to be praisd of ages yet to be Then do thy office Muse I teach thee how To make him seeme long hence as he showes now 102 MY loue is strengthned though more weake in seeming I loue not lesse thogh lesse the show appeare That loue is marchandiz'd whose ritch esteeming The owners tongue doth publish euery where Our loue was new and then but in the spring When I was wont to greet it with my laies As Philomell in summers front doth singe And stops his pipe in growth of riper daies Not that the summer is lesse pleasant now Then when her mournefull himns did hush the night But that wild musick burthens euery bow And sweets growne common loose their deare delight Therefore like her I some-time hold my tongue Because I would not dull you with my songe 103 A Lack what pouerty my Muse brings forth That hauing such a skope to show her pride The argument all bare is of more worth Then when it hath my added praise beside Oh blame me not if I no more can write Looke in your glasse and there appeares a face That ouer-goes my blunt inuention quite Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace Were it not sinfull then striuing to mend To marre the subiect that before was well For to no other passe my verses tend Then of your graces and your gifts to tell And more much more then in my verse can sit Your owne glasse showes you when you looke in it 104 TO me faire friend you neuer can be old For as you were when first your eye I eyde Such seemes your beautie still Three Winters colde Haue from the forrests shooke three summers pride Three beautious springs to yellow Autumne turn'd In processe of the seasons haue I seene Three Aprill perfumes in three hot Iunes burn'd Since first I saw you fresh which yet are greene Ah yet doth beauty like a Dyall hand Steale from his figure and no pace perceiu'd So your sweete hew which me thinkes still doth stan Hath motion and mine eye may be deceaued For feare of which heare this thou age vnbred Ere you were borne was beauties summer dead 105 LEt not my loue be cal'd Idolatrie Nor my beloued as an Idoll show Since all alike my songs and praises be To one of one still such and euer so Kinde is my loue to day to morrow kinde Still constant in a wondrous excellence Therefore my verse to constancie confin'de One thing expressing leaues out difference Faire kinde and true is all my argument Faire kinde and true varrying to other words And in this change is my inuention spent Three theams in one which wondrous scope affords Faire kinde and true haue often liu'd alone Which three till now neuer kept seate in one 106 WHen in the Chronicle of wasted time I see discriptions of the fairest wights And beautie making beautifull old rime In praise of Ladies dead and louely Knights Then in the blazon of sweet beauties best Of hand of foote of lip of eye of brow I see their antique Pen would haue exprest Euen such a beauty as you maister now So all their praises are but prophesies Of this our time all you prefiguring And for they look'd but with deuining eyes They had not still enough your worth to sing For we which now behold these present dayes Haue eyes to wonder but lack toungs to praise 107 NOt mine owne feares nor the prophetick soule Of the wide world dreaming on things to come Can yet the lease of my true loue controule Supposde as forfeit to a confin'd doome The mortall Moone hath her eclipse indur'de And the sad Augurs mock their owne presage Incertenties now crowne them-selues assur'de And peace proclaimes Oliues of endlesse age Now with the drops of this most balmie time My loue lookes fresh and death to me subscribes Since spight of him I le liue in this poore rime While he insults ore dull and speachlesse tribes And thou in this shalt finde thy monument When tyrants crests and tombs of brasse are spent 108 WHat 's in the braine that Inck may character Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit What 's new to speake what now to register That may expresse my loue or thy deare merit Nothing sweet boy but yet like prayers diuine I must each day say ore the very same Counting no old thing old thou mine I thine Euen as when first I hallowed thy faire name So that eternall loue in loues fresh case Waighes not the dust and iniury of age Nor giues to necessary wrinckles place But makes antiquitie for aye his page Finding the first conceit of loue there bred Where time and outward forme would shew it dead