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Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never !

How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted, Those lines that I before have writ do lie,

In the distraction of this madding fever! Even those that said I could not love you dearer;

O benefit of ill! now I find true, Yet then my judgment knew no reason why

That better is by evil still made better; My most full name should afterwards burn clearer.

And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in '.wixt vows, and change decrees of kings, | Grows fuirer than at first, more strong, for greater.

So I return rebuk'd to my content,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds t'the course of altering things;

And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
Alas! why, fearing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, "now I love you best,"
When I was certain o'er incertainty,

That you were once unkind befriends me now, Crowning the present, doubting of the rest ?

And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Love is a babe; then, might I not say so,

Needs must I under my trangression bow, To give full growth to that which still doth grow? Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.

For if you were by my unkindness shaken,

As I by yours, you have pass'd a hell of time; Let me not to the marriage of true minds

And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken

To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime.
Admit impediments : love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,

0! that our night of woe might have remember'd Or bends with the remover to remove :

My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits; O no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd

The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits! That looks on tempest, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, (taken.

But that your trespass now becomes a fee; Whose worth's unknown, although his height be

Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

'Tis better to be vile, than vile esteemed, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

When not to be receives reproach of being ; If this be error, and upon me proved,

And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing :
For why should others' fulse adulterate eyes

Give salutation to my sportive blood ?
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all

Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Wherein I should your great deserts repay;

Which in their wills count bad what I think good ? Forgot upon your dearest love to call,

No, I am that I um; and they that level Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;

At my abuses, reckon up their own :

I That I have frequent been with unknown minds,

may be straight, though they themselves be bevel. And given to time your own dear-purchas'd riglit;

By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; That I have hoisted sail to all the winds

Unless this general evil they maintain, Which should transport me farthest from your sight:

All men are bad, and in their badness reign. Book both my wilfulness and errors down, And on just proof surmise accumulate ; Bring me within the level of your frown,

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain

Full character'd with lasting memory,
But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate,
Since my appeal says, I did strive to prove

Which shall above that idle rank remain,
The constancy and virtue of your love.

Beyond all date, even lo eternity;
Or, at the least, so long as brnin and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;

Till each to ras'd oblivion yield his part
Like as, to make our appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge;

Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,

That poor retention could not so much hold, We sicken to shun sickness when we purge;

Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, To trust those tables that receive thee moro:

Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding;
And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness

To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
To be diseas'd, ere that there was true needing.

Were to import forgetfulness in me.
Thus policy in love, t' anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assur'd,
And brought to medicine a healthful state,

No! Time, thou shall not boast that I do change: Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cur'd;

Thy pyramids, built up with newer might, Bul thence I learn, and find the lesson true,

To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.

They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our datos are brief, and therefore we admire

What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
What potions have I drunk of syren tears,

And rather make them born to our desire, Distill'd from b limbecks foul as hell within,

Than think that we before have heard them told. Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,

Thy registers and thce I both defy, Still losing when I saw myself to win!

Not wondering at the present, nor the past; What wretched errors bath my heart committed,

For thy records and what we see do lie,

Made more or less by thy continual haste. ." Eager," (Fr, aigre), i. e., sour.–6" Linbecks," i. e.,

This I do vow, and this shall ever be, alembics.

I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee;






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At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand. If my dear love were but the child of state,

To be so tickled, they would change their state It might for fortune's bastard be unfathered,

And situation with those dancing chips, As subject to time's love, or to time's hate,

O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered. Making dead wood more blesa'd than living lips. No, it was builded far from accident;

Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls

Give them thiy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls:

It fears not policy, that heretic,

Tli' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Which works on leases of short number'd hours, Is lust in action; and till action, lust
But all alone stands hugely politic,

Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Thal it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers. Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
To this I witness call the fools of time,

Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Which die for goodness, who have liv'd for crime. Past reason hunted, and no sooner had,

Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait,

On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy,

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; With my extern the outward honoring,

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme: Or laid great bases for eternily,

A bliss in proof,—and prov'd, a very woe; Which prove more short than waste or ruining? Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream. Have I not seen dwellers on form and favor

All this the world well knows, yet none knows Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent;

well For compound sweet fore-going simple savor,

To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent ? No; let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblation, poor but free,

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, Coral is far more red than her lips' red: But mutual render, only me for thee.

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul,

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. When most impeach'd, stonds least in thy control. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight
O thou, my lovely boy! who in thy power

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st; I grant I never saw a goddess go;
If nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill

As any she belied with fulse compare.
May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, 0 thou minion of her pleasure !

Sbe may detain, but not still keep her treasure:
Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,
And her quietus is to render thee.

As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well thou know'st, to my dear doting heart

Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
In the old age black was not counted fair,

Thy fuce hath not the power to make love groan: Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name ;

To say they err I dare not be so bold,
But now is black beauty's successive heir,

Although I swear it to myself alone.
And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame; And, to be sure that is not false I swear,
For since each hand hath put on nature's power, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face,

One on another's neck, do witness bear,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place.
But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace.

In nothing art thou black, save in thy deeds,
Therefore, my mistress' eyes are raven black,

And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.
Her eyes so suited ; and they mourners seem
At such, who, not born fair, no beauty lack,

Slandering creation with a false esteem:
Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe,

Tline eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
That every tongue says, beauty should look so.

Knowing thy heart tormenis me with disdain,
Have put on black, and loving mouiders be,

Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
How oft, when thou, my music, music playest,

And, truly, not the morning sun of heaven Upon that blessed wood, whose motion sounds

Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently swayest

Nor that full star that ushers in the even The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Doth half that glory to the sober west, Do I envy those a jacks, that nimble leap

As those two mourning eyes become thy face. To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,

0! let it, then, as well beseem thy heart Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, And suit thy pity like in every part;

To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,

Then will I swear, beauty herself is black, • Jacks are keys of the virginal

And all they foul that ihy complexion lack.




They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Beshrew that heart, that makes my heart to groan

Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!

If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,

Be anchor'd in the boy where all men ride,
Is 't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be ?

Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,

Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied ?

Why should my heart think that a several plot, And my next self thou harder hast engrossed:

Which my heart knows the wide world's common Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;

Or mine eyes seeing this, say, this is not, [place? A torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed.

To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
Prison my heart in thy steel boson's ward,
But, then, my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;

And to this false plague are they now transferred. Thou canst not then use rigor in my jail :

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

When my love swears 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 false subtleties. So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, And I myself am mortgng'd to thy will; Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine

Although she knows my days are past the best, Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:

Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,

But wherefore says she not, she is unjust?
For thou art covetous, and he is kind;
He learn'd but, surety-like, to write for me,

And wherefore say not I, that I am old ?

0! love's best habit is in seeming trust, Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,

And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me.
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake;

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.

CXXXIX. Him have I lost; thou hast both bim and me:

0! call not me to justify the wrong, He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

That thy unkindness Inys upon my heart;

Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue, Whoever hath her wish, thou hast ihy b Will,

Use power with power, and slay me not by art. And Will to boot, and Will in over-plus;

Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere ; but in my sight, More than enough am I, that vex thee still,

Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside : To thy sweet will making addition thus.

What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,

might Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine ?

Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can 'bide ? Shall will in others seem right gracious,

Let me excuse thee : ah! my love well knows And in my will no fair acceptance shine ?

Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,

And therefore from my face she turns my foes, all water, yet receives rain still, And in abundance addeth to his store;

That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.

Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
So thou, being rich in Will, add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy large Will more.

Kill me out-right with looks, and rid my pain.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press

My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain ; If thy soul check thee that I come so near,

Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,

The manner of my pity-wanting pain. And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;

If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Thus fur for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.

Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so ; Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,

As testy sick men, when their deaths be near. Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one,

No news but health from their physicians know: In things of great receipt with ease we provo,

For, if I should despair, I should grow mad, Among a number one is reckon'd none:

And in my madness might speak ill of thee; Then, in the number let me pass untold,

Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Thoughi in ly stores' account I one must be;

Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold

That I may not be so, nor thou belied, [wide. That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:

Bear thine eye straight, though thy proud heart go Make but my name thy love, and love that still,

And then thou lov'st me,-for my name is Will.

In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,

For they in thee a thousand errors note;
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote.

But 't is my heart that loves what they despise, That they behold, and see not what they see?

The sen,


: “ The statute,” i. e., the security.-6" Whoever bath her "A several plot," i. e., a piece of ground which has been wish, thou hast thy Will:" As mere is in this and the next common," or uninclosed, but has been separated and made sonnet, as well as in Sonnet cxliii, an obvious play upon the private property. - This sonnet, with variations, was first Christinn name of the poet, we have printed it exactly as it printed in The Passionate Pilgrim," 1599. It is inserted stands in the quarto, 1609, and as it probably stood in the hereafter as it stands in that work, that the reader may have manuscript from which it was printed.

an opportunity of comparing the two copies.




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Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted; | Doth follow night, who, like a fiend,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,

From heaven to hell is flown away:
Nor taste, nor swell, desire to be invited

“ I hate" from hate away she threw, To any sensual feast with thee alone:

And sav'd my life, saying—"not you."
But my five wits, nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leave unsway'd the likeness of a man, Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array,

Only my plague thus far I count my gain, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain. Painting thy outward walls so costly gay !

Why so large cost, having so short a lease,

Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ?
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue bate,

Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.


up thy charge? is this thy body's end ! O! but with mine compare thou thine own state, Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;

And let that pine to aggravate thy slore; Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,

Buy terms divine in selling bours of dross; That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments,

Within be fed, without be rich no more: And seald false bonds of love as oft as mine,

So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
Robb'd others' beds revenues of their rents.

And, death once dead, there's no more dying then
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,

My love is as a fever, longing still
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

For that which longer nurseth the disease ; If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,

Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
By self-example may'st thou be denied !

Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,

Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,

Desire is death, which physic did except.
Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay ; And frantic mad with ever-more unrest:
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are,
Cries to catch hier whose busy care is bent

At random from the truth vainly express'd ;
To follow that which flies before her face,

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Noi prizing her poor infant's discontent:

Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
So run'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind ;

But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind : Which have no correspondence with true sight!

So will I pray that thou may'st have thy Will, Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
If thou turn buck, and my loud crying still. That censures falsely what they see arighe ?

If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,

What means the world to say it is not so ?
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

If it be not, then love doth well denote Which like two spirits do bguggest me still : Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, The better angel is a man, right fair,

How can it ? O! how can love's eye be tive, The worser spirit a woman, color'd ill.

That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? To win me soon to hell, my female evil

No marvel, then, though I mistake my view; Tempteth my better angel from my side,

The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,

O cunning love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.

Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul funlts should find.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;

But being both from me, both to each friend, Canst thou, O Cruel! say, I love thee not,
I guess one angel in another's hell:

When I, against myself, with thee partake ?
Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy suke?
Who hateth thee that I do call my friend ?

On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon ?
Those lips that Love's own hand did make, Nay, if thou low'rst on me, do I not spend
Breath'd forth the sound that said, “I hate," Revenge upon myself with present moan?
To me that languish'd for her sake;

What merit do I in myself respect,
But when she saw my woeful state,

That is so proud thy service to despise, Straight in her heart did mercy come,

When all my best doth worship thy defect, Chiding that tongue, that ever sweet

Commanded by the motion of thine eyes ! Was us'd in giving gentle doom,

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind: And taught it thus anew to greet.

Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. “I hate," she alter'd with an end, That follow'd it as gentle day

CL. 0! from what power hast thou this powerful might,

With insufficiency my heart to sway? This eonnet, with some variations, will be found herealter in "The Passionate Pilgrim."-6" Suggest," i. e., tempt.

O" Partake," L e, take part,


To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,
That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds ?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate ?
0! though I love what others do abhor,
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state:

If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,
More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.

For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee,
And all my honest faith in thee is lost:
For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,
Oashs of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy;
And to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness,
Or made them swear against the thing they see;

For I have sworn thee fair: more perjur'd I,
To swear against the truth so foul a lie !



Love is too young to know what conscience is ;
Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love ?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my bamiss.
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason ;
My soul doch tell my body that he may
Triumph in love ; flesh stavs no farther reason,
But rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, full by thy side.

No want of conscience hold it, that I call
Her love, for whose dcar love I rise and fall.

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove,
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eye love's brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,

But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire, my mistress' eyes.



In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing;
In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
But why of iwo oaths' breach do I accuse thee,
When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most;

The little Love-god lying once asleep,
Laid by his side bis heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs, that vow'd chaste life to keep,
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd:
And so the general of hot desire
Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath, and healthful remedy
For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall,

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

-"Warrantise," i. e., authority ; security. -6" Amiss," i e., fault


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