perhaps compounded am with clay Doe not so much as my poore name rehâ—â—se But let your love even with my life decay Least the wise world should looke into your moâ—â—e And mocke you with me after I am gone O Least the world should taske you to recite What merit liv'd in me that you should loue After my death deare love forget me quite For you in me can nothing worthy prove Vnlesse you would devise some vertuous lye To doe more for me then mine owne desert And hange more prayse upon deceased I Then nigard truth would willingly impart O least your true love may seeme false in this That you for love speake well of me untrue My name be buried where my body is And live no more to shame nor me nor you For I am shamd by that which I bring forth And so should you to love things nothing worth But be contented when that fell arest Without all bayle shall carry me away My life hath in this line some interest Which for memoriall still with thee shall stay When thou reviewest this thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee The earth can have 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 prey 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 Nil magnic Invidia THat thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect For slanders marke was ever yet the faire The ornament of beautie is suspect A Crow that flies in heavens sweetest ayre So thou be good slander doth but approve Their worth the greater being woo'd of time For Canker vice the sweetest buds doth love And thou present'st a pure unstayned prime Thou hast past by the â—mbush of young dayes Either not assaild or victor being charg'd Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise To tye up envy evermore inlarged If some suspect of ill maske not thy show Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts shouldst owe Love-sicke O How I faint when I of you doe write Knowing a better spirit doth use your name And in the prayse thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tide speaking of your fame But since your worth wide as the Ocean is The humble as the proudest saile doth beare My sawsie barke inferior farre to his On your broad maine doth wilfully appeare Your shalloweâ— helpe will hold me up a floate Whilst he upon your soundlesse deepe doth ride Or being wrackt I am a worthlesse boatâ— He â—f tall building and of goodly pride Then if he thrive and I be cast away The worst was this my love was my decay Or I shall live your Epitaph to make Or you survive when I in earth am rotten From hence your memory death cannot take Although in me each part will be forgotten Your name from hence immortall life shall have Though I once gone to all the world must dye The earth can yeeld me but a common grave When you intombed in mens eyes shall lie Your monument shall be my gentle verse Which eyes not yet created shall ore-read And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead You still shall live such vertue hath my Pen Where breath most breaths even in the mouths of men The Picture of true love LEt me not to the marriage of true mindes Admit impediments love is not love Which alters when it alteration findes Or bends with the remover to remove O no it is an ever fixed marke That lookes on tempests and is never shaken It is the starre to every wandring barke Whose worths unknowne although his hight be taken Lov 's not Times foole though rosie lips and cheeks Within his bending sickles compasse come Love alters not with his breefe houâ—es and weekes But beares it out even to the edge of doome If this be errour and upon me proved I never writ nor no man ever loved In prayse of his Love I Grant thou wert not married to my Muse And therefore mayst without attaint ore-looke The dedicated words which writers use Of their faire subject blessing every booke Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew Finding thy worth a limmit past my praise And therefore art inforc'd to seekeanew Some fresher stampe of the time bettering dayes And doe so love yet when they have devis'd What strained touches Rhetorich can lend Thou truly faire wert truly simpathizde In true plaine words by thy true telling friend And their grosse painting might be better uâ—'d Where cheekes need blood in thee it is abus'd I never saw that you did painting need And therefore to your faire no painting set I found or thought I found you did exceede The barren tender of a Poetâ— debt And therefore have I slept in your report That you your selfe being extant well might show How farre a moderne quill doth come to short Speaking of worth what worth in you doth grow This silence of my sinne you did impute Which shall be most my glory being dumbe For I impaire not beautie being mute When others would give life and bring a tombe There lives more life in one of your faire eyes Then both your Poets can in praise devise Who is it that sayes most which can say more Then this rich praise that you alone art you In whose confine immured is the store Which should example where your equall grew Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell That to his subject lends not some small glory But he that writes of you if he can tell That you are you so dignifies his story Let him but coppy what in you is writ Not making worse what nature made so cleere And such a counter-part shall same his writ Making his still admired every where You to your beautious blessings adde a curse Being fond on praise which makes your praises worse My tongue tide Muse in manners holds her still While comments of your praise richly compil'd Reserve their Character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses fil'd I thinke good thoughts whilst other write good words And like unlettered clerke still crie Amen To every Himne that able spirit affords In polisht forme of well refined pen Hearing you praisd I say 't is so 't is true And to the most of praise adde something more But that is in my thought whoâ—e love to you Though words come hind-most holds his ranke before Then others for the breath of words respect Me for my dumbe thoughts speaking in effect A Resignation WAs it the proud full saile of his great verse Bound for the prize of all to precious you That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearse Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew Was it his spirit by spirits taught to write Above a mortall pitch that struck me dead No
example mai'st thou be denide An Allusion LOe as a carefull huswife runnes to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away Sets downe her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuite of the thing she would have stay Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace Cries to catch her whose busie care is bent To follow that which flies before her face Not prizing her poore infants discontent So runst thou after that which flies from thee Whilst I thy babe chase thee a farre behind But if thou catch thy hope turne backe to mee And play the mothers part kisse me be kind So will I pray that thou maist have thy Will If thou turne backe and my loud crying still Life and death THose lips that Loves owne hand did make Breath'd forth the sound that said I hate To me that languisht for her sake But when she saw my wofull state Straight in her heart did mercy come Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was usde in giving gentle doome And taught it thus a new to greete I hate she altered with an end That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flowne away I hate from hate away she threw And sav'd my life saying not you A Consideration of death POore soule the center of my sinfull earth My sinfull earth these rebell powers that thee aray Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth Painting thy outward walls in costly gay Why so large cost having so short a lease Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend Shall wormes in heritors of this excesse Eate up thy charge is this thy bodies end Then soule live thou upon thy servants losse And let that pine to aggrivate thy store Buy tearmes divine in selling houres of drosse VVithin be fed without be rich no more So shalt thou feed on death that feedes on men And death once dead ther 's no more dying then Immoderate Passion MY love is as a feaver longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill Th' uncertaine sickly appetite to please My reason the Phisition to my love Angry that his prescriptions are not kept Hath left me and I desperate now approve Desire is death which Phisicke did except Past cure I am now Reason is past care And franticke madde with ever-more unrest My thoughts and my discourse as mad mens are At randome from the truth vainely exprest For I have sworne thee faire and thought thee bright Who art as blacke as hell as darke as night Loves powerfull subtilty O Me what eyes hath love put in my head Which have no correspondence with true sight Or if they have where is my judgement fled That censures falsely what they see aright If that be faire where on my false eyes dote What meanâ—s the world to say it is not so If it be not then love doth well denote Loves eye is not so true as all mens no How can it Oh how can loves eye be true That is so vext with watching and with teares No marvell then though I mistake my view The Sunne it selfe sees not till heaven cleeres O cunning love with teares thou keepst me blinde Least eyes well seeing thy foule faults should finde Canst thou O cruell say I love thee not When I against my selfe with thee partake Doe I not thinke on thee when I forgot Am of my selfe all tyrant for thy sake Who hateth thee that I doe call my friend On whom froun'st thou that I doe faune upon Nay if thou lowrst on me doe I not spend Revenge upon my selfe with present mone What merit do I in my selfe respect That is so proud thy service to dispise When all my best doth worship thy defect Commanded by the motion of thine eyes But love hate on for now I know thy minde Those that can see thou lov'st and I am blinde Oh from what power hast thou this powrefull might With insufficiency my heart to sway To make me give the lie to my true sight And sweare that brightnesse doth not grace the day Whence hast thou this becomming of things ill That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill That in my minde thy worst all best exceeds Who taught thee how to make me love thee more The more I heare and see just cause of hate Oh though I love what others doe abhorre With others thou should'st not abhorre my state If thy unworthinesse rais'd love in me More worthy I to be belov'd of thee Retaliation SO oft have I invok'd thee for my Muse And â—ound such faire assistance in my verse As every Alâ—en Pen hath got my use And under thee their poeâ—ie disperse Thine eyes that taught the dumbe on high to sing And heavie ignorance aloft to flie Have added feathers to the learneds wing And given grace a double Majestie Yet be most proud of that which I compile Whose influence is thine and borne of thee In others workes thou dost but mend the stile And Arts with thy sweete graces graced be But thou art all my Art and dost advance As high as learning my rude ignorance Whilst I alone did call upon thy aide My verse alone had all thy gentle grace But now my gracious numbers are decaide And my sicke Muse doth give another place I grant sweet love thy lovely argument Deserves the travell of a worthier pen Yet what of thee thy Poet doth invent He robs thee of and payes it thee againe He lends thee vertue and he stole that word From thy behaviour beautie doth he give And found it in thy theeke he can afford No praise to thee but what in thee doth live Then thanke him not for that Which he doth say Since what he owes thee thou thy selfe dost pay Sunne Set. THat time of yeare thou maist in mee behold When yellow leaves or none or few doe hang Vpon those boughes which shake against the cold Bare ruin'd quires where late the sweet birds sang In me thou seest the twi-lights of such day As after Sun-set fadeth in the West Which by and by blacke night doth take away Deaths second selfe that seales up all in rest In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death bed whereon it must expire Consum'd with that which it was nurâ—isht by T is thou perceiv'st which makes thy love more strong To love that well which thou must leave ere long Thy glasse will shew thee how thy beauties were Thy dyall how thy precious minutes waste The vacant leaves thy mindes imprint will beare And of this booke this learning maist thou taste The wrinckles which thy glasse will truely show Of mouthed graves will give the memory Thou by thy dyals shady stealth maist know Times theevish progresse to eternity Looke what thy memory cannot containe Commit to these waste blacks and thou shalt finde Those children nurst delivered
vadeth suddainly A flower that dies when first it gins to bud A brittle glasse that 's broken presently A doubtfull good a glosse a glasse a flower Lost vaded broken dead within an houre And as goods lost are â—eld or never found As vaded glosse no rubbing will refresh As flowers dead lie withered on the ground As broken glasse no symant can redresse So beautie blemisht once for ever lost Inspite of phisicke painting paine and cost Melancholy thoughts IF the dull substance of my flesh were thought Injurious distance should not stop my way For then dispight of space I would be brought From limits farre remote where thou doost stay No matter then although my foote did stand Vpon the farthest earth remoov'd from thee For nimble thought can jumpe both sea and land As soone as thinke the place where he would be But ah thought kills me that I am not thought To leape large lengths of miles when thou art gone But that so much of earth and water wrought I must attend times leasure with my mone Receiving naughts by elements so sloe But heavy teares badges of eithers woe The other two slight ayre and purging fire Are both with thee where ever I abide The first my thought the other my desire These present absent with swift motion slide For when these quicker Elements are gone In tender Embassie of love to thee My life being made of foure with two alone Sinkes downe to death opprest with melancholy Vntill lives composition be recured By those swift messengers return'd from thee Who even but now come backe againe assured Of their faire health recounting it to me This told I joy but then no longer glad I send them back againe and straight grow sad Loves Losse SWeet Rose faire flower untimely pluckt soone vaded Plukt in the bud and vaded in the spring Bright Orient pearle alacke too timely shaded Faire creature kild too soone by Deaths sharpe sting Like a greene plumbe that hangs upon a tree And fals through winde before the fall should be I weepe for thee and yet no cause I have For why thou lefts me nothing in thy Will And yet thou lefts me more then I did crave For why I craved nothing of thee still O yes deare friend I pardon crave of thee Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me Loves Releefe FVll many a glorious morning have I seene Flatter the mountaine tops with soveraigne eye Kissing with golden face the meddowes greene Gilding pale streames with heavenly alcumy Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ougly rack on his celestiall face And from the forlorne world his visage hide Stealing unseene to west with this disgrace Even so my Sunne one early morne did shine With all triumphant splender on my brow But out alack he was but one houre mine The region cloude hath mask'd him from me novv Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth Suns of the world may staine when heavens sun stayneâ— Why didst thou promise such a beautious day And make me travaile forth vvithout my cloake To let base clouds ore take me in my way Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke T is not enough that through the cloude thou breake To dry the raine on my storme-beaten face For no man vvell of such a salve can speake That heales the vvound and cures not the disgrace Nor can thy shame give phisicke to my griefe Though thou repent yet I have still the losse Th' offenders sorrovv lends but vveake reliefe To him that beares the strong offences losse Ah but those teares are pearle vvhich thy love sheeds And they are rich and ransome all ill deeds No more be greev'd at that which thou hast done Roses have thornes and silver fountaines mud Clouds and eclipses staine both Moone and Sunne And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud All men make faults and even I in this Authorizing thy trespas with compare My selfe corrupting salving thy amisse Excusing their sins more then their sins are For to thy sensuall fault I bring in sence Thy adverse partie is thy Advocate And gainst my selfe a lawfull plea commence Such civill war is in my love and hate That I an accessarâ— needs must be To that sweet theefe vvhich sourely robs from me Vnanimitie LEt me confesse that we tvvo must be twaine Although our undevided loves are one â—o shall those blots that do with me remaine Without thy helpe by me be borne alone â—n our two loves there is but one respect Though in our lives a seperable spight Which though it alter not loves sole effect Yet doth it steale sweet houres from loves delight I may not ever-more acknowledge thee Least my bewailed guilt should doe thee shame Nor thou vvith publike kindnesse honour me Vnlesse thou take that honour from thy name But doe not so I love thee in such sort As thou being mine mine is thy good report As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child doe deeds of youth So I made lame by Fortunes dearest spight Take all my comfort of thy vvorth and truth For whether beautie birth or vvealth or vvit Or any of these all oâ— all or more â—ntitled in their parts do crowned sit â— make my love ingrafted to this store So then I am not lame poore nor dispis'd Whilst that this shadovv doth such substance give That I in thy aboundance an suffic'd And by a part of all thy glory live Looke vvhat is best that best I vvish in thee This vvish I have then ten times happy me Loath to depart GOod night good rest ah neither be my share She bad good night that kept my rest away And daft me to a cabben hangde vvith care To descant on the doubts of my decay Farevvell quoth she and come againe tomorrovv Farevvell I could not for I supt with sorrovv Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile In scorne or friendship nill I conster vvhether 'T may be she joyd to jeast at my exile 'T may be againe to make me vvander thither Wander a word for shadovves like my selfe As take the paine but cannot plucke the pelfe Lord hovv mine eyes throvv gazes to the East My heart doth charge the watch the morning rise Doth scite each moving sence from idle rest Not daring trust the office of mine eies While Philomela sits and â—ings I sit and marke And wish her layes vvere tuned like the Larke For she doth vvelcome day-light vvith her ditty And drives avvay darke dreaming night The night so packt I post unto my pretty Hart hath his hope and eies their vvished sight Sorrow chang'd to solace and solace mixt vvith sorrow For vvhy she sight and bad me come to morrovv Were I vvith her the night vvould post too soone But now are minutes added to the houres To spite me now each minute seemes an houre Yet not for me shine Sunne to succour flovvers Pack night peepe day good day of night novv borrow Short night to night and length thy selfe tomorrow A
if thou should'st depart Leaving thee living in posterity Be not selfe-wild for thou art much too faire To be deaths conquest and make wormes thine heire An invitation to Marriage MVsick to heare why hear'st thou musick sadly Sweets with sweets warre not joy delights in joy Why lov'st thou that which thou receavst not gladly Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy If the true concord of well tuned sounds By unions married do offend thine eare They do but sweetly chide thee who confounds In singlenesse the parts that thou should'st beare Marke how one string sweet husband to another Strikes each in each by mutuall ordering Resembling â—ier and child and happy mother Who all in one one pleasing note do sing Whose speechlesse song being many seeming one Sings this to thee thou single wilt prove none It is for feare to wet a widdowes eye That thou consum'st thy selfe in single life Ah if thou issuleâ—â—e shalt hap to die The world will waile thee like a makelesse wife The world will be thy widdow and still weepe That thou no forme of thee hast left behind When every privat widdow well may keepe By childrens eyes her husbands shape in minde Looke what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place for still the world enjoyes it But beauties waste hath in the world an end And kept unus'd the user so destroyes it No love toward others in that bosome sits That on himselfe such murdrous shame commits For shame dâ—â—y that thou bear'st love to any Who for thy selfe art so unprovident Grant if thou wilt thou art belov'd of many But that thou none lov'st is most evident For thou art so possest with murdrous hate That gainst thy selfe thou stickst not to conspire Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate Which to repaire should be thy chiefe desire O change thy thought that I may change my minde Shall hate be fairer log'd then gentle love Be as thy presence is gracious and kind Or to thy selfe at least kind hearted prove Make thee another selfe for love of me That beautie still may live in thine or thee As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st In one of thine from that which thou departest And that fresh blood which yongly thou bestow'st Thou maist call thine when thou from youth convertest Herein lives wisedome beautie and increase Without this folly age and cold decay If all were minded so the times should cease And threescore yeares would make the world away Let those whoâ— nature hath not made for store Harsh featurelesse and rude barrenly perish Looke whom she best indow'd she gave the more Which bountious gift thou shouldst in bountie cherrish She carv'd thee for her seâ—le and ment thereby Thou shouldst print more not let that coppy die When I doe count the clock that tels the time And see the brave day sunck in hidious night When I behold the violet past prime And sable curls or silver'd ore with white When loftie trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopiâ— the herd And Sommers greene all girded up in sheaves Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard Then of thy beautie doe I question make That thou among the wasts of time must goe Since sweets and beauties doe themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow And nothing gainst Times sithe can make defence Save bread to brave him when he takes thee hence False beleefe WHen my Love sweares that she is made of truth I doe beleeve her though I know she lies That she might thinke me some untutor'd youth Vnskilfull in the worlds false forgeries Thus vainly thinking that she thinkes me young Although I know my yeares be past the best I smiling credit her false speaking tongue Outfacing faults in Love with loves ill rest But wherefore sayes my love that shee is young And wherefore say not I that I am old O Loves best habit is a soothing tongue And Age in love loves not to have yeares told Therefore I le lie with Love and Love with me Since that our faults in Love thus smother'd be A Temptation TWo loves I have of Comfort and Despaire That like two Spirits doe suggest me still My better Angell is a Man right faire My worser spirit a Woman colour'd ill To winne me soone to hell my Female evill Tempteth my better Angell from my side And would corrupt my Saint to be a Divell Wooing his puritie with her faire pride And whether that my Angell be turnd feend Suspect I may yet not directly tell For being both to me both to each friend I ghesse one Angell in anothers hell The truth I shall not know but live in doubt Till my bad Angell fire my good one out Fast and loose DId not the heavenly Rhetoricke of thine eye Gainst whom the world could not hold argument Perswade my heart to this false perjurie Vowes for thee broke deserve not punishment A woman I forswore but I will proue Thou being a Goddesse I forswore not thee My vow was earthly thou a heavenly love Thy grace being gaind cures all disgrace in me My vow was breath and breath a vapour is Then thou faire Sun that on this earth doth shine Exhale this vapour vow in thee it is If broken thâ—n it is no fault of mine If by me broke what foole is not so wise To breake an Oath to win a Paradise True content SO is it not with me as with that Muse Stird by a painted beautie to his verse Who heaven it selfe for ornament doth use And every faire with his faire doth reherse Making a cooplement of proud compare With Sunne and Moone with earth and seas rich gems With Aprills first borne flowers and all things rare That heavens ayre in this huge rondure hems O let me true in love but truly write And then beleeve me my love is as faire As any mothers childe though not so bright As those gold candells fixt in heavens ayeâ— Let them say more that like of heare-say well I will not prayse that purpose not to sell A bashfull Lover AS an unperfect actor on the stage Who with his feare is put besides his part Or some fierce thing repleat with too much rage Whose strengths abnndance weakens his owne heart So I for feare of trust forget to say The perfect ceremony of loves right And in mine owne loves strength seeme to decay Ore-charg'd with burthen of mine owne loves might O let my books be then the eloquence And domb presagers of my speaking brest Who pleade for love and looke for recompence More then that tongue that more hath more exprest O learne to read what silent love hath writ To heare with eyes belongs to loves fine wit Strong conceite MY glasse shall not perswade me I am old So long as youth and thou art of one date But when in thee times forrowes I behold Then looke I death my dayes should expiate For all that beautie that doth cover
spring Within thine owne bud buriest thy content And tender chorle makst wast in niggarding Pitty the world or else this glutton be To eate the worlds due by the grave and thee When fortie Winters shall beseige thy brow And digge deep trenches in thy beauties field Thy youthes proud livery so gaz'd on now Will be a totter'd weed of small worth held Then being askt where all thy beautie lies Where all the treasure of thy lusty dayes To say within thine owne deepe sunken eyes Were an all-eating shame and thriftlesse praise How much more praise deserv'd thy beauties use If thou couldst answere this faire child of mine Shall sum my count and make my old excuse Prooving his beautie by succession thine This were to be new made when thou art old And see thy blood warme when thou feel'st it cold Looke in thy glasse and tell the face thou vewest Now is the time that face should forme an other Whose fresh repaine if now thou not renewest Thou doo'st beguile the world unblesse some mother For where is she so faire whose un-eard wombe Disdaines the tillage of thy husbandry Or who is he so fond will be the tombe Of his selfe love to stop posteritie Thou art thy mothers glasse and she in thee Calls backe the lovely Aprill of her prime So thou through windowes of thine age shalt see Dispight of wrinkles this thy goulded time But if thou live remember not to be Die single and thine Image dies with thee Youthfull glory O That you were your selfe but love you are No longer yours then you your selfe here live Against this comming end you should prepare And your sweet semblance to some other give So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination then you were Your selfe again after your selfes decease When your sweet issue your sweete forme should beare Who lets so faire a house fall to decay Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winters day And barren rage of deaths eternall cold O none but unthrifts dare my love you know You had a Father let your Son say so Not from the stars doe I my judgement plucke And yet me thinkes I have Astronomy But not to tell of good or evill lucke Of plagues of dearths or seasons qualitie Nor can I fortune to breefe minuts tell Pointing to each his thunder raine and vvinde Or say with Princes if it shall goe well By oft predict that I in heaven finde But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive And constant stars in them I read such art As truth and beautie shall together thrive If from thy selfe to store thou wouldst convert Or else of thee this I prognosticate Thy end is Truths and Beauties doome and date When I consider every thing that growes Holds in perfection but a little moment That this huge stage presenteth nought but showeâ— Whereon the Stars in secret influence comment When I perceive that men as plants increase Cheated and checkt even by the selfe-same skie Vaunt in their youthfull sap at height decrease And were their brave state our of memory Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight Where waâ—tfull time debateth with decay To change your day of youth to fullied night And all in war with Time for love of you As he takes from you I ingraft you new Good Admonition Vt wherefore doe not you a mightier way Make warre upon this bloudy tirant time â—nd fortifie your selfe in your decay â—ith meanes more blessed then my barren time â—ow stand you on the top of happy houres â—nd many maiden gardens yet unset â—ith vertuous wish would beare your living flowers â—uch liker then your painted counterfeit So should the lines of life that life repaire â—hich this Times pensell or my pupill pen â—either in inward worth nor outward faire â—an make you live your selfe in eyes of men To give away your selfe keeps your selfe still And you must live drawne by your owne sweet skill â—ho will beleeve my verse in time to come â—f it were fild with your most high deserts â—hough yet heaven knowes it is but as a tombe â—hich hides your life and showes not halfe your parts â—f I could write the beautie of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces The age to come would say this Poet lies â—uch heavenly touches nere toucht earthly faces â—o should my papers yellowed with their age â—e 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 alive that time You should live twise in it and in my rime Quicke prevention LOe in the Orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head each under eye Doth homage to his new appearing fight Serving with lookes his sacred majestie And having climb'd the steepe up heavenly hill Resembling strong youth in his middle age Yet mortall lookes adore his beautie still Attending on his golden pilgrimage But when from high-most pitch with weary care Like feeble age he reeleth from the day The eyes fore dutious now converted are From his low tract and looke another way So thou thy selfe out-going in thy noon Vnlok'd on diest unlesse thou get a sonne Magazine of beautie VNthriftie lovelinesse why dost thou spend Vpon thy selfe thy beauties legacy Natures bequest gives nothing but doth lend And being frank she lends to those are free Then beautious niggard why doost thou abuse The bountious largesâ—e given thee to give Profitles Vsurer why dost thou use So great a summe of summes yet can'st not live For having traffike with thy selfe alone Thou of thy selfe thy sweet selfe dost deceive Then how when nature calls thee to be gone What acceptable Audit can'st thou leave Thy unus'd beautie must be tomb'd with thee Which used lives th' executor to be Those howres that with gentle worke did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell Will play the tirants to the very same And that unfaire which fairely doth excell For never resting time leads Summer on To hidious winter and confounds him there Sap checkt with frost and lustie leav's quite gon Beautie ore-snow'd and barenesse every where Then were not summers distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glasse Beauties effect with beautie were bereâ—t Nor it nor no remembrance what it was But flowers distil'd though they with winter meete Leese but their show their substance still lives sweet Then let not winters wragged hand deface In thee thy summer ere thou be distil'd Make sweet some viall treasure thou some place With beauties treasure ere it be selfe kil'd That use is not forbidden usury Which happies those that pay the willing lone That 's for thy selfe to breed another thee Or ten times happier be it ten for one Ten times thy selfe were happier then thou art If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee Then what could death doe
thee Is but the seemely rayment of my heart Which in thy brest doth live as thine in me How can I then be elder then thou art O therefore love 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 gav'st me thine not to give backe againe A sweet provocation SWeet Cytheria sitting by a Brooke With young Adonis lovely fresh and greene Did court the Lad with many a lovely looke Such lookes as none could looke but beauties Queene She told him stories to delight his eares She show'd him favors to allure his eye To win his heart she toucht him here and there Touches so soft still conquer chastitie But whether unripe yeares did want conceit Or he refus'd to take her figured proffer The tender nibler would not touch the bait But smile and jest at every gentle offer Then fell she on her backe faire Queene and toward He rose and ran away ah foole too froward A constant vow IF love make me forsworne how shall I sweare to love O never faithcould hold if not to beautie vowed Though to my selfe forsworne to thee I le constant prove Those thoughts to me like Okes to thee like Oâ—iers bowed Studdy his byas leaves and makes his booke thine eyes Where all those pleasures lives that Art can comprehend If knowledge be the marke to know thee shall suffice Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend All ignorant that soule that sees thee without wonder Which is to me some prayse that I thy parts admire Thine eye Ioves lightning seemes thy voyce his dreadfull thunder Which not to anger bent is musick and sweet fire Celestiall as thou art O doe not love that wrong To sing heavens prayse with such an earthly tongue The Exchange A Womans face with natures owne hand painted Hast thou the Master Mistris of my passion A womans gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false womens fashion An eye more bright then theirs lesse false in rowling Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth A man in hew all Hews in his controuling Which steales mens eyes and womens soules amazeth And for a woman went thou first created Till nature as she wrought thee fell a doting 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 love and thy loves use their treasure A disconsolation WEary with toyle I haste me to my bed The deare repose for lims with travaile tired But then begins a journey in my head To worke my minde when bodies work 's expired For then my thoughts from far where I abide Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee And keepe my drooping eye-lids open wide Looking on darkenesse which the blind doe see Save that my soules imaginary sight Presents their shaddow to my sightlesse view Which like a jewell â—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 no quiet finde How can I then returne in happy plight That am debard the benefit of rest When dayes oppression is not eazd by night But day by night and night by day opprest And each though enemies to others 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 heaven So flatter I the swart complexiond night When sparkling stars twire not thou guil'st th' even But day doth daily draw my sorrowes longer And night doth nightly make greefes length seeme stronger When in disgrace with Fortune and mens eyes I all alone be weepe my out-cast state And trouble deafe heaven with my bootlesse cries And looke upon 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 skopâ— With what I most injoy contented least Yet in these thoughts my selfe almost despising Haply I thinke on thee and then my state Like to the Larke at breake of day arising From sullen earth sings himns at Heavensgate For thy sweet love remembred such wealth brings That then I scorne to change my state with Kings Cruell Deceit SCarse had the Sunne dride up the deawy morne And scarse the herd gone to the hedge for shade When Cytherea all in love forlorne A longing tariance for Adonis made Vnder an Osyer growing by a brooke A brooke where Adon us'd to coole his spleene Hot was the day she hotter that did looke For his approach that often there had beene Anon he comes and throwes his Mantle by And stood starke naked on the brookes greene brim The Sunne look't on the world with glorious eye Yet not so wistly as this Queene on him He spying her bounst in whereas he stood Oh Iove quoth she why was not I a stood The unconstant Lover FAire is my love but not so faire as fickle Milde as a Dove but neither true nor trustie Brighter then glasse and yet as glasse is brittle Softer then wax and yet as Iron rusty A lilly pale with damaske die to grace her None fairer nor none falser to deface her Her lips to mine how often hath she joyned Betweene each kisse her oathes of true love swearing How many tales to please me hath she coyned Dreading my love the losse thereof still fearing Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings Her faith her oathes her teares and all were jeastings She burnt with love as straw with fire flameth She burnt out love as soone as straw out burneth She fram'd the love and yet she foyld the framing She bad love last and yet she fell a turning Was this a lover or a Letcher whether Bad in the best though excellent in neither The benefit of Friendship WHen to the Sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up 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 unus'd to flow For precious friends hid in deaths datelesse night And weepe a fresh loves long since canceld woe And moane th' expence of many a vanisht sight Then can I greeve at greevances fore gone And heavily from woe to woe tell ore The sad account of fore-bemoned mone VVhich I new pay as if not payd before But if the while I thinke on thee deare friend All losses are restor'd and sorrowes end Thy bosome is indeared with all hearts VVhich I by lacking have supposed dead And there raignes Love and all Loves loving parts And all those friends which I thought buried How many a holy and obsequious teare Hath deare religious love