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twg_000000013800 | and of the Lamb. : In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. : And there shall be no more curse: but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013801 | the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: : And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. : And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013802 | shall reign for ever and ever. : And he said unto me, These sayings are faithful and true: and the Lord God of the holy prophets sent his angel to shew unto his servants the things which must shortly be done. : Behold, I come quickly: blessed is he that keepeth the sayings of the prophecy of this book. : | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013803 | And I John saw these things, and heard them. And when I had heard and seen, I fell down to worship before the feet of the angel which shewed me these things. : Then saith he unto me, See thou do it not: for I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets, and of them which keep the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013804 | sayings of this book: worship God. : And he saith unto me, Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book: for the time is at hand. : He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013805 | that is holy, let him be holy still. : And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his work shall be. : I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last. : Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013806 | the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city. : For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie. : I Jesus have sent mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the root and the offspring of David, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013807 | the bright and morning star. : And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. : For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013808 | add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: : And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013809 | this book. : He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. : The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen. | 32 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013810 | The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare Contents THE SONNETS ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL THE TRAGEDY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA AS YOU LIKE IT THE COMEDY OF ERRORS THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS CYMBELINE THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH THE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013811 | LIFE OF KING HENRY THE FIFTH THE FIRST PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH KING HENRY THE EIGHTH THE LIFE AND DEATH OF KING JOHN THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR THE TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR LOVES LABOURS LOST THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH MEASURE FOR MEASURE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013812 | THE MERCHANT OF VENICE THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR A MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE KING RICHARD THE SECOND KING RICHARD THE THIRD THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET THE TAMING OF THE SHREW THE TEMPEST THE LIFE OF TIMON OF ATHENS THE TRAGEDY OF TITUS | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013813 | ANDRONICUS TROILUS AND CRESSIDA TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN THE WINTERS TALE A LOVERS COMPLAINT THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE THE RAPE OF LUCRECE VENUS AND ADONIS THE SONNETS From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beautys rose might never die, But as the riper should | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013814 | by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feedst thy lights flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel: Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013815 | thy content, And, tender churl, makst waste in niggarding: Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the worlds due, by the grave and thee. When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beautys field, Thy youths proud livery so gazed on now, Will be a tattered weed of small worth held: Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013816 | being asked, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise. How much more praise deservd thy beautys use, If thou couldst answer This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse, Proving his beauty by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013817 | succession thine. This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feelst it cold. Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, Now is the time that face should form another, Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013818 | she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb Of his self-love to stop posterity? Thou art thy mothers glass and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime, So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles this thy golden | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013819 | time. But if thou live remembered not to be, Die single and thine image dies with thee. Unthrifty loveliness why dost thou spend, Upon thyself thy beautys legacy? Natures bequest gives nothing but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free: Then beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse, The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013820 | why dost thou use So great a sum of sums yet canst not live? For having traffic with thyself alone, Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive, Then how when nature calls thee to be gone, What acceptable audit canst thou leave? Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee, Which used lives th executor to be. Those hours | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013821 | that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell Will play the tyrants to the very same, And that unfair which fairly doth excel: For never-resting time leads summer on To hideous winter and confounds him there, Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty oer-snowed and bareness every where: Then were not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013822 | summers distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beautys effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it nor no remembrance what it was. But flowers distilled though they with winter meet, Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet. Then let not winters ragged hand deface, In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled: Make sweet some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013823 | vial; treasure thou some place, With beautys treasure ere it be self-killed: That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; Thats for thyself to breed another thee, Or ten times happier be it ten for one, Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: Then what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013824 | could death do if thou shouldst depart, Leaving thee living in posterity? Be not self-willed for thou art much too fair, To be deaths conquest and make worms thine heir. Lo in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty, And having | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013825 | climbed the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage: But when from highmost pitch with weary car, Like feeble age he reeleth from the day, The eyes (fore duteous) now converted are From his low tract and look another way: So thou, thyself out-going in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013826 | thy noon: Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son. Music to hear, why hearst thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lovst thou that which thou receivst not gladly, Or else receivst with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married do offend thine ear, They do but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013827 | sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear: Mark how one string sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, Thou single wilt prove none. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013828 | Is it for fear to wet a widows eye, That thou consumst thyself in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife, The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left behind, When every private widow well may keep, By childrens | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013829 | eyes, her husbands shape in mind: Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; But beautys waste hath in the world an end, And kept unused the user so destroys it: No love toward others in that bosom sits That on himself such murdrous shame commits. For shame deny | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013830 | that thou bearst love to any Who for thyself art so unprovident. Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, But that thou none lovst is most evident: For thou art so possessed with murdrous hate, That gainst thyself thou stickst not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate Which to repair should be thy chief desire: O | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013831 | change thy thought, that I may change my mind, Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Be as thy presence is gracious and kind, Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove, Make thee another self for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou growst, In | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013832 | one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowst, Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest, Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, Without this folly, age, and cold decay, If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away: Let those whom nature hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013833 | not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look whom she best endowed, she gave thee more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013834 | sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered oer with white: When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd And summers green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: Then of thy beauty do I question make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013835 | That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing gainst Times scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence. O that you were your self, but love you are No longer yours, than you yourself here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013836 | live, Against this coming 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 Yourself again after yourselfs decease, When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013837 | Against the stormy gusts of winters day And barren rage of deaths eternal cold? O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know, You had a father, let your son say so. Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good, or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013838 | or seasons quality, Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell; Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well By oft predict that I in heaven find. But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And constant stars in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013839 | If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert: Or else of thee this I prognosticate, Thy end is truths and beautys doom and date. When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment. That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment. When I perceive that men as plants increase, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013840 | Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky: Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory. Then the conceit of this inconstant stay, Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay To change your day of youth to sullied night, And all in war with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013841 | Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I engraft you new. But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time? And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013842 | wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this (Times pencil) or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. To give away yourself, keeps yourself still, And you must live drawn by your own | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013843 | sweet skill. Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts: If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013844 | come would say this poet lies, Such heavenly touches neer touched earthly faces. So should my papers (yellowed with their age) Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poets rage, And stretched metre of an antique song. But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice,in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013845 | it, and in my rhyme. Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summers lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013846 | By chance, or natures changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst, Nor shall death brag thou wandrest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growst, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Devouring | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013847 | Time blunt thou the lions paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tigers jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood, Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleetst, And do whateer thou wilt swift-footed Time To the wide world and all her fading sweets: But I forbid thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013848 | one most heinous crime, O carve not with thy hours my loves fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen, Him in thy course untainted do allow, For beautys pattern to succeeding men. Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. A womans face with natures own | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013849 | hand painted, Hast thou the master mistress of my passion, A womans gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false womens fashion, An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling: Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth, A man in hue all hues in his controlling, Which steals mens eyes and womens souls amazeth. And for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013850 | a woman wert 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 pricked thee out for womens pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy loves use their treasure. So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013851 | a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use, And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and seas rich gems: With Aprils first-born flowers and all things rare, That heavens air in this huge rondure hems. O let me true in love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013852 | but truly write, And then believe me, my love is as fair, As any mothers child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heavens air: Let them say more that like of hearsay well, I will not praise that purpose not to sell. My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013853 | thou are of one date, But when in thee times furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate. For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me, How can I then be elder than thou art? O therefore love be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013854 | of thyself so wary, As I not for my self, but for thee will, Bearing thy heart which I will keep so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain, Thou gavst me thine not to give back again. As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013855 | is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strengths abundance weakens his own heart; So I for fear of trust, forget to say, The perfect ceremony of loves rite, And in mine own loves strength seem to decay, Oercharged with burthen of mine own loves might: O let my looks be then the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013856 | eloquence, And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed. O learn to read what silent love hath writ, To hear with eyes belongs to loves fine wit. Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, Thy beautys form in table of my heart, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013857 | My body is the frame wherein tis held, And perspective it is best painters art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosoms shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes: Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, Mine eyes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013858 | have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart. Let those who are in favour with their stars, Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013859 | I whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlooked for joy in that I honour most; Great princes favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the suns eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013860 | the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled: Then happy I that love and am beloved Where I may not remove nor be removed. Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit; To thee I send this written embassage To witness duty, not to show my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013861 | wit. Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it; But that I hope some good conceit of thine In thy souls thought (all naked) will bestow it: Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, Points on me graciously with fair aspect, And puts apparel on my tattered loving, To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013862 | show me worthy of thy sweet respect, Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me. Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when bodys | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013863 | works expired. For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see. Save that my souls imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) Makes black night beauteous, and her old | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013864 | face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for my self, no quiet find. How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When days oppression is not eased by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed. And each (though enemies to eithers reign) | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013865 | Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee. I tell the day to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: So flatter I the swart-complexioned night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gildst the even. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013866 | But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make griefs length seem stronger When in disgrace with fortune and mens eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon my self and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013867 | him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this mans art, and that mans scope, With what I most enjoy contented least, Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heavens gate, For thy sweet love remembered | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013868 | such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings. When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear times waste: Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) For precious friends | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013869 | hid in deaths dateless night, And weep afresh loves long since cancelled woe, And moan th expense of many a vanished sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell oer The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013870 | (dear friend) All losses are restored, and sorrows end. Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all loves loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stoln from mine eye, As interest of the dead, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013871 | which now appear, But things removed that hidden in thee lie. Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, Who all their parts of me to thee did give, That due of many, now is thine alone. Their images I loved, I view in thee, And thou, all they, hast all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013872 | the all of me. If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover: Compare them with the bettring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013873 | Exceeded by the height of happier men. O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought, Had my friends Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought To march in ranks of better equipage: But since he died and poets better prove, Theirs for their style Ill read, his for his love. Full many | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013874 | a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green; Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy: Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013875 | early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow, But out alack, he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, Suns of the world may stain, when heavens sun staineth. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013876 | forth without my cloak, To let base clouds oertake me in my way, Hiding thy bravry in their rotten smoke? Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak, That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace: Nor can thy shame | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013877 | give physic to my grief, Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss, Th offenders sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offences cross. Ah but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds. No more be grieved at that which thou hast done, Roses have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013878 | thorns, and silver fountains mud, Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespass with compare, My self corrupting salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are: For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense; Thy adverse party | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013879 | is thy advocate, And gainst my self a lawful plea commence: Such civil war is in my love and hate, That I an accessary needs must be, To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. Let me confess that we two must be twain, Although our undivided loves are one: So shall those blots that do with me remain, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013880 | Without thy help, by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not loves sole effect, Yet doth it steal sweet hours from loves delight. I may not evermore acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with public kindness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013881 | honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name: But do 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 do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by Fortunes dearest spite Take all my comfort of thy worth and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013882 | truth. For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, Or any of these all, or all, or more Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit, I make my love engrafted to this store: So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013883 | part of all thy glory live: Look what is best, that best I wish in thee, This wish I have, then ten times happy me. How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe that pourst into my verse, Thine own sweet argument, too excellent, For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O give thyself the thanks if | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013884 | aught in me, Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, For whos so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou thyself dost give invention light? Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth Than those old nine which rhymers invocate, And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth Eternal numbers to outlive long date. If my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013885 | slight Muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. O how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring: And what ist but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this, let us | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013886 | divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give: That due to thee which thou deservst alone: O absence what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave, To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013887 | that thou teachest how to make one twain, By praising him here who doth hence remain. Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all, What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more: Then if for my love, thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013888 | my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest, But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery gentle thief Although thou steal thee all my poverty: And yet love knows it is a greater grief To bear greater wrong, than hates known injury. Lascivious grace, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013889 | in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes. Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013890 | And when a woman woos, what womans son, Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? Ay me, but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty, and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth: Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee, Thine by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013891 | thy beauty being false to me. That thou hast her it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly, That she hath thee is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye, Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013892 | her, And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suffring my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my loves gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss, Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross, But heres | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013893 | the joy, my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone. When most I wink then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected, But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013894 | How would thy shadows form, form happy show, To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made, By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade, Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! All days | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013895 | are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way, For then despite of space I would be brought, From limits far remote, where thou dost stay, No matter then although my foot did stand Upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013896 | the farthest earth removed from thee, For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, As soon as think the place where he would be. But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, But that so much of earth and water wrought, I must attend, times leisure with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013897 | my moan. Receiving nought by elements so slow, But heavy tears, badges of eithers woe. The other two, slight air, and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever 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 embassy of love to thee, My life | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013898 | being made of four, with two alone, Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy. Until lifes composition be recured, By those swift messengers returned from thee, Who even but now come back again assured, Of thy fair health, recounting it to me. This told, I joy, but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000013899 | Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, How to divide the conquest of thy sight, Mine eye, my heart thy pictures sight would bar, My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right, My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie, A closet never pierced with crystal eyes; But the defendant doth that plea deny, And | 60 | gutenberg |
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