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Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, |
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, |
That every tongue says beauty should look so. |
128 |
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, |
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds |
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st |
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, |
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap, |
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, |
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap, |
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand. |
To be so tickled they would change their state |
And situation with those dancing chips, |
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, |
Making dead wood more blest than living lips, |
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, |
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. |
129 |
Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame |
Is lust in action, and till action, lust |
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody full of blame, |
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, |
Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight, |
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had |
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait, |
On purpose laid to make the taker mad. |
Mad in pursuit and in possession so, |
Had, having, and in quest, to have extreme, |
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe, |
Before a joy proposed behind a dream. |
All this the world well knows yet none knows well, |
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. |
130 |
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun, |
Coral is far more red, than her lips red, |
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun: |
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head: |
I have seen roses damasked, red and white, |
But no such roses see I in her cheeks, |
And in some perfumes is there more delight, |
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. |
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know, |
That music hath a far more pleasing sound: |
I grant I never saw a goddess go, |
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground. |
And yet by heaven I think my love as rare, |
As any she belied with false compare. |
131 |
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, |
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, |
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan; |
To say they err, I dare not be so bold, |
Although I swear it to my self alone. |
And to be sure that is not false I swear, |
A thousand groans but thinking on thy face, |
One on another's neck do witness bear |
Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. |
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, |
And thence this slander as I think proceeds. |
132 |
Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, |
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, |
Have put on black, and loving mourners be, |
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. |
And truly not the morning sun of heaven |
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, |
Nor that full star that ushers in the even |
Doth half that glory to the sober west |
As those two mourning eyes become thy face: |
O let it then as well beseem thy heart |
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, |
And suit thy pity like in every part. |
Then will I swear beauty herself is black, |
And all they foul that thy complexion lack. |
133 |
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan |
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; |
Is't not enough to torture me alone, |
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? |
Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken, |
And my next self thou harder hast engrossed, |
Of him, my self, and thee I am forsaken, |
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed: |
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, |
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail, |
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard, |
Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol. |
And yet thou wilt, for I being pent in thee, |
Perforce am thine and all that is in me. |
134 |
So now I have confessed that he is thine, |
And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, |
My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, |
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