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twg_000000029300 | countenance of such distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries O, thy mother, thy mother! then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029301 | clipping her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it. SECOND GENTLEMAN. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Like an old tale still, which will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029302 | have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherds son, who has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. FIRST GENTLEMAN. What became of his bark and his followers? THIRD GENTLEMAN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029303 | Wrecked the same instant of their masters death, and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble combat that twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029304 | elevated that the oracle was fulfilled. She lifted the princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be in danger of losing. FIRST GENTLEMAN. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. THIRD | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029305 | GENTLEMAN. One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, though not the fish) was, when at the relation of the queens death (with the manner how she came to it bravely confessed and lamented by the king) how attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of dolour to another, she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029306 | did, with an Alas, I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Are they returned to the court? THIRD GENTLEMAN. No: the princess hearing of her mothers statue, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029307 | which is in the keeping of Paulina,a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself eternity, and could put breath into his work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029308 | speak to her and stand in hope of answer. Thither with all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend to sup. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thought she had some great matter there in hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither, and with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029309 | our company piece the rejoicing? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born. Our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Lets along. [_Exeunt Gentlemen._] AUTOLYCUS. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029310 | brought the old man and his son aboard the prince; told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I know not what. But he at that time over-fond of the shepherds daughter (so he then took her to be), who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscoverd. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029311 | tis all one to me; for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it would not have relishd among my other discredits. Enter Shepherd and Clown. Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. SHEPHERD. Come, boy; I am past more children, but thy sons and daughters | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029312 | will be all gentlemen born. CLOWN. You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes? Say you see them not and think me still no gentleman born: you were best say these robes are not gentlemen born. Give me the lie, do; and try whether | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029313 | I am not now a gentleman born. AUTOLYCUS. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. CLOWN. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. SHEPHERD. And so have I, boy! CLOWN. So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the kings son took me by the hand and called me brother; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029314 | and then the two kings called my father brother; and then the prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, called my father father; and so we wept; and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. SHEPHERD. We may live, son, to shed many more. CLOWN. Ay; or else twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029315 | as we are. AUTOLYCUS. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince my master. SHEPHERD. Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. CLOWN. Thou wilt amend thy life? AUTOLYCUS. Ay, an it like your good worship. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029316 | CLOWN. Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. SHEPHERD. You may say it, but not swear it. CLOWN. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins say it, Ill swear it. SHEPHERD. How if it be false, son? CLOWN. If it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029317 | be neer so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend. And Ill swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be drunk: but Ill swear it; and I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029318 | would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. AUTOLYCUS. I will prove so, sir, to my power. CLOWN. Ay, by any means, prove a tall fellow: if I do not wonder how thou darst venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029319 | the queens picture. Come, follow us: well be thy good masters. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. A Room in Paulinas house. Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina, Lords and Attendants. LEONTES. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort That I have had of thee! PAULINA. What, sovereign sir, I did not well, I meant well. All my services | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029320 | You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafd, With your crownd brother and these your contracted Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, It is a surplus of your grace which never My life may last to answer. LEONTES. O Paulina, We honour you with trouble. But we came To see the statue of our queen: your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029321 | gallery Have we passd through, not without much content In many singularities; but we saw not That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother. PAULINA. As she livd peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you lookd upon Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029322 | But here it is: prepare To see the life as lively mockd as ever Still sleep mockd death. Behold, and say tis well. Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers Hermione standing as a statue. I like your silence, it the more shows off Your wonder: but yet speak. First you, my liege. Comes it not something near? LEONTES. Her natural | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029323 | posture! Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she In thy not chiding; for she was as tender As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing So aged as this seems. POLIXENES. O, not by much! PAULINA. So much the more our carvers excellence, Which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029324 | lets go by some sixteen years and makes her As she livd now. LEONTES. As now she might have done, So much to my good comfort as it is Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, Even with such life of majesty, warm life, As now it coldly stands, when first I wood her! I am ashamd: does | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029325 | not the stone rebuke me For being more stone than it? O royal piece, Theres magic in thy majesty, which has My evils conjurd to remembrance and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee. PERDITA. And give me leave, And do not say tis superstition, that I kneel, and then implore her blessing. Lady, Dear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029326 | queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. PAULINA. O, patience! The statue is but newly fixd, the colours Not dry. CAMILLO. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, So many summers dry. Scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no sorrow But killd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029327 | itself much sooner. POLIXENES. Dear my brother, Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself. PAULINA. Indeed, my lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought youfor the stone is mine Id not have showd it. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029328 | LEONTES. Do not draw the curtain. PAULINA. No longer shall you gaze ont, lest your fancy May think anon it moves. LEONTES. Let be, let be. Would I were dead, but that methinks already What was he that did make it? See, my lord, Would you not deem it breathd? And that those veins Did verily bear blood? POLIXENES. Masterly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029329 | done: The very life seems warm upon her lip. LEONTES. The fixture of her eye has motion in t, As we are mockd with art. PAULINA. Ill draw the curtain: My lords almost so far transported that Hell think anon it lives. LEONTES. O sweet Paulina, Make me to think so twenty years together! No settled senses of the world | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029330 | can match The pleasure of that madness. Let t alone. PAULINA. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirrd you: but I could afflict you further. LEONTES. Do, Paulina; For this affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort. Still methinks There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath? Let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029331 | no man mock me, For I will kiss her! PAULINA. Good my lord, forbear: The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; Youll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? LEONTES. No, not these twenty years. PERDITA. So long could I Stand by, a looker on. PAULINA. Either forbear, Quit presently | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029332 | the chapel, or resolve you For more amazement. If you can behold it, Ill make the statue move indeed, descend, And take you by the hand. But then youll think (Which I protest against) I am assisted By wicked powers. LEONTES. What you can make her do I am content to look on: what to speak, I am content to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029333 | hear; for tis as easy To make her speak as move. PAULINA. It is requird You do awake your faith. Then all stand still; Or those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart. LEONTES. Proceed: No foot shall stir. PAULINA. Music, awake her: strike! [_Music._] Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; Strike all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029334 | that look upon with marvel. Come; Ill fill your grave up: stir; nay, come away. Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs. Hermione comes down from the pedestal. Start not; her actions shall be holy as You hear my spell is lawful. Do not shun her Until you see her die | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029335 | again; for then You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: When she was young you wood her; now in age Is she become the suitor? LEONTES. [_Embracing her._] O, shes warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating. POLIXENES. She embraces him. CAMILLO. She hangs about his neck. If she pertain to life, let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029336 | her speak too. POLIXENES. Ay, and make it manifest where she has livd, Or how stoln from the dead. PAULINA. That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale; but it appears she lives, Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. Please you to interpose, fair madam. Kneel And pray | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029337 | your mothers blessing. Turn, good lady, Our Perdita is found. [_Presenting Perdita who kneels to Hermione._] HERMIONE. You gods, look down, And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughters head! Tell me, mine own, Where hast thou been preservd? where livd? how found Thy fathers court? for thou shalt hear that I, Knowing by Paulina that the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029338 | oracle Gave hope thou wast in being, have preservd Myself to see the issue. PAULINA. Theres time enough for that; Lest they desire upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation. Go together, You precious winners all; your exultation Partake to everyone. I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some witherd bough, and there My mate, thats | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029339 | never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. LEONTES. O peace, Paulina! Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a wife: this is a match, And made between s by vows. Thou hast found mine; But how, is to be questiond; for I saw her, As I thought, dead; and have in vain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029340 | said many A prayer upon her grave. Ill not seek far For him, I partly know his mindto find thee An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty Is richly noted, and here justified By us, a pair of kings. Lets from this place. What! look upon my brother: both your pardons, That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029341 | eer I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law, And son unto the king, whom heavens directing, Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely Each one demand, and answer to his part Performd in this wide gap of time, since first We were disseverd. Hastily lead away! [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029342 | A LOVERS COMPLAINT From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistring vale, My spirits tattend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tund tale; Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, Storming her world with sorrows wind and rain. Upon her head a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029343 | platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The carcass of a beauty spent and done; Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit, but spite of heavens fell rage Some beauty peeped through lattice of seard age. Oft did she heave her napkin to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029344 | her eyne, Which on it had conceited characters, Laundring the silken figures in the brine That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears; As often shrieking undistinguishd woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low. Sometimes her levelld eyes their carriage ride, As they did battry to the spheres intend; Sometime diverted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029345 | their poor balls are tied To thorbed earth; sometimes they do extend Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and nowhere fixd, The mind and sight distractedly commixd. Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, Proclaimd in her a careless hand of pride; For some untuckd descended her sheavd hat, Hanging her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029346 | pale and pined cheek beside; Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though slackly braided in loose negligence. A thousand favours from a maund she drew, Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, Which one by one she in a river threw, Upon whose weeping margent she was set, Like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029347 | usury applying wet to wet, Or monarchs hands, that lets not bounty fall Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. Of folded schedules had she many a one, Which she perusd, sighd, tore and gave the flood; Crackd many a ring of posied gold and bone, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet mo letters sadly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029348 | pennd in blood, With sleided silk, feat and affectedly Enswathd, and seald to curious secrecy. These often bathd she in her fluxive eyes, And often kissd, and often gave to tear; Cried, O false blood, thou register of lies, What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seemd more black and damned here! This said, in top of rage | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029349 | the lines she rents, Big discontent so breaking their contents. A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours observed as they flew, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And, privilegd by age, desires to know In brief the grounds and motives | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029350 | of her woe. So slides he down upon his grained bat, And comely distant sits he by her side, When he again desires her, being sat, Her grievance with his hearing to divide: If that from him there may be aught applied Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, Tis promised in the charity of age. Father, she says, though in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029351 | me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old, Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power. I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied Love to myself, and to no love beside. But woe is me! Too early I attended A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029352 | youthful suit; it was to gain my grace; O one by natures outwards so commended, That maidens eyes stuck over all his face, Love lackd a dwelling and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodgd and newly deified. His browny locks did hang in crooked curls, And every light occasion | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029353 | of the wind Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls, Whats sweet to do, to do will aptly find, Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind: For on his visage was in little drawn, What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn. Small show of man was yet upon his chin; His phoenix down began but to appear, Like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029354 | unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, Whose bare out-braggd the web it seemed to wear. Yet showd his visage by that cost more dear, And nice affections wavering stood in doubt If best were as it was, or best without. His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; Yet if men movd him, was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029355 | he such a storm As oft twixt May and April is to see, When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. His rudeness so with his authorizd youth Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. Well could he ride, and often men would say That horse his mettle from his rider takes, Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029356 | What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes! And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by th well-doing steed. But quickly on this side the verdict went, His real habitude gave life and grace To appertainings and to ornament, Accomplishd in himself, not in his case; All | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029357 | aids, themselves made fairer by their place, Came for additions; yet their purposd trim Piecd not his grace, but were all gracd by him. So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep, To make the weeper laugh, the laugher | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029358 | weep: He had the dialect and different skill, Catching all passions in his craft of will. That he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain In personal duty, following where he haunted, Consents bewitchd, ere he desire, have granted, And dialogued for him what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029359 | he would say, Askd their own wills, and made their wills obey. Many there were that did his picture get To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind, Like fools that in th imagination set The goodly objects which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assignd, And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029360 | Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them. So many have, that never touchd his hand, Sweetly supposd them mistress of his heart. My woeful self that did in freedom stand, And was my own fee-simple (not in part) What with his art in youth, and youth in art, Threw my affections in his charmed power, Reservd the stalk | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029361 | and gave him all my flower. Yet did I not, as some my equals did, Demand of him, nor being desired yielded, Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I mine honour shielded. Experience for me many bulwarks builded Of proofs new-bleeding, which remaind the foil Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. But ah! Who ever | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029362 | shunnd by precedent The destind ill she must herself assay, Or forced examples gainst her own content, To put the by-passd perils in her way? Counsel may stop a while what will not stay: For when we rage, advice is often seen By blunting us to make our wills more keen. Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, That we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029363 | must curb it upon others proof, To be forbode the sweets that seems so good, For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. O appetite, from judgement stand aloof! The one a palate hath that needs will taste, Though reason weep and cry, It is thy last. For further I could say, This mans untrue, And knew the patterns | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029364 | of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others orchards grew, Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. And long upon these terms I held my city, Till thus he gan besiege me: Gentle maid, Have of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029365 | my suffering youth some feeling pity, And be not of my holy vows afraid: Thats to ye sworn, to none was ever said, For feasts of love I have been calld unto, Till now did neer invite, nor never woo. All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of the mind: Love made them not; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029366 | with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind, They sought their shame that so their shame did find, And so much less of shame in me remains, By how much of me their reproach contains. Among the many that mine eyes have seen, Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed, Or my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029367 | affection put to th smallest teen, Or any of my leisures ever charmed: Harm have I done to them, but neer was harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reignd commanding in his monarchy. Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, Of pallid pearls and rubies red as blood, Figuring that they their passions likewise | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029368 | lent me Of grief and blushes, aptly understood In bloodless white and the encrimsond mood; Effects of terror and dear modesty, Encampd in hearts, but fighting outwardly. And, lo! behold these talents of their hair, With twisted metal amorously empleachd, I have receivd from many a several fair, Their kind acceptance weepingly beseechd, With th annexions of fair gems enrichd, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029369 | And deep-braind sonnets that did amplify Each stones dear nature, worth and quality. The diamond, why twas beautiful and hard, Whereto his invisd properties did tend, The deep green emerald, in whose fresh regard Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend With objects manifold; each several stone, With wit well blazond smild, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029370 | made some moan. Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, Of pensivd and subdued desires the tender, Nature hath chargd me that I hoard them not, But yield them up where I myself must render, That is, to you, my origin and ender: For these of force must your oblations be, Since I their altar, you empatron me. O then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029371 | advance of yours that phraseless hand, Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; Take all these similes to your own command, Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise: What me, your minister for you, obeys, Works under you; and to your audit comes Their distract parcels in combined sums. Lo, this device was sent me from a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029372 | nun, Or sister sanctified of holiest note, Which late her noble suit in court did shun, Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, But kept cold distance, and did thence remove To spend her living in eternal love. But O, my sweet, what labour ist to leave The thing we have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029373 | not, mastring what not strives, Planing the place which did no form receive, Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves, She that her fame so to herself contrives, The scars of battle scapeth by the flight, And makes her absence valiant, not her might. O pardon me, in that my boast is true, The accident which brought me to her eye, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029374 | Upon the moment did her force subdue, And now she would the caged cloister fly: Religious love put out religions eye: Not to be tempted would she be immurd, And now to tempt all, liberty procurd. How mighty then you are, O hear me tell! The broken bosoms that to me belong Have emptied all their fountains in my well, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029375 | And mine I pour your ocean all among: I strong oer them, and you oer me being strong, Must for your victory us all congest, As compound love to physic your cold breast. My parts had powr to charm a sacred nun, Who, disciplind and dieted in grace, Believd her eyes when they tassail begun, All vows and consecrations giving | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029376 | place. O most potential love! Vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all and all things else are thine. When thou impressest, what are precepts worth Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth, Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! Loves arms are peace, gainst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029377 | rule, gainst sense, gainst shame, And sweetens, in the suffring pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears. Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine, And supplicant their sighs to your extend, To leave the battry that you make gainst mine, Lending soft audience to my sweet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029378 | design, And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, That shall prefer and undertake my troth. This said, his watry eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were levelld on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With brinish current downward flowed apace. O how the channel to the stream gave grace! Who, glazd with crystal gate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029379 | the glowing roses That flame through water which their hue encloses. O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies In the small orb of one particular tear! But with the inundation of the eyes What rocky heart to water will not wear? What breast so cold that is not warmed here? O cleft effect! Cold modesty, hot wrath, Both fire | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029380 | from hence and chill extincture hath. For lo, his passion, but an art of craft, Even there resolvd my reason into tears; There my white stole of chastity I daffd, Shook off my sober guards, and civil fears, Appear to him as he to me appears, All melting, though our drops this diffrence bore: His poisond me, and mine did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029381 | him restore. In him a plenitude of subtle matter, Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, In eithers aptness, as it best deceives, To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows. That not a heart | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029382 | which in his level came Could scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; And veild in them, did win whom he would maim. Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; When he most burned in heart-wishd luxury, He preachd pure maid, and praisd cold chastity. Thus merely with the garment of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029383 | a grace, The naked and concealed fiend he coverd, That thunexperient gave the tempter place, Which, like a cherubin, above them hoverd. Who, young and simple, would not be so loverd? Ay me! I fell, and yet do question make What I should do again for such a sake. O, that infected moisture of his eye, O, that false fire | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029384 | which in his cheek so glowd! O, that forcd thunder from his heart did fly, O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowd, O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed, Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed, And new pervert a reconciled maid. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM I When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029385 | though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutord youth, Unskilful in the worlds false forgeries. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although I know my years be past the best, I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue, Outfacing faults in love with loves ill rest. But wherefore says my love that she is young? And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029386 | wherefore say not I that I am old? O, loves best habit is a soothing tongue, And age, in love, loves not to have years told. Therefore, Ill lie with love, and love with me, Since that our faults in love thus smotherd be. II Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, That like two spirits do suggest me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029387 | still; My better angel is a man right fair, My worser spirit a woman colourd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her fair pride. And whether that my angel be turnd fiend, Suspect I may, yet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029388 | not directly tell; For being both to me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in anothers hell: The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out. III Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, Gainst whom the world could not hold argument, Persuade my heart to this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029389 | false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore; but I will prove, Thou being a goddess, 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 fair sun, that on this earth doth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029390 | shine, Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is; If broken then, it is no fault of mine. If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To break an oath, to win a paradise? IV Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook With young Adonis, lovely, fresh and green, Did court the lad with many a lovely look, Such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029391 | looks as none could look but beautys queen. She told him stories to delight his ear; She showd him favours to allure his eye; To win his heart, she touchd him here and there; Touches so soft still conquer chastity. But whether unripe years did want conceit, Or he refusd to take her figurd proffer, The tender nibbler would not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029392 | touch the bait, But smile and jest at every gentle offer. Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward: He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward! V If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed. Though to myself forsworn, to thee Ill constant | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029393 | prove; Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029394 | Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire. Thine eye Joves lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing heavens praise with such an earthly tongue. VI Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029395 | And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, A longing tarriance for Adonis made Under an osier growing by a brook, A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen. Hot was the day; she hotter that did look For his approach, that often there had been. Anon he comes, and throws | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029396 | his mantle by, And stood stark naked on the brooks green brim: The sun lookd on the world with glorious eye, Yet not so wistly as this queen on him. He, spying her, bouncd in, whereas he stood, O Jove, quoth she, why was not I a flood? VII Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle, Mild | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029397 | as a dove, but neither true nor trusty, Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle, Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty: A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029398 | How many tales to please me hath she coined, Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings. She burnt with love, as straw with fire flameth; She burnt out love, as soon as straw out-burneth; She framd the love, and yet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000029399 | she foild the framing; She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. VIII If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great twixt thee and me, Because thou lovst the one | 60 | gutenberg |
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