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Madness his sorrow, gout his cramp may he

The world's whole sap is sunk: Make, by bot thinking who hath made them such: The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, And may he feel no touch

Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk, Of conscience, but of fame, and be

Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh, Anguish'd, not that 't was sin, but that ’t was she: Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.

Or may he for her virtue reverence
One, that hates him only for impotence,

Study me then, you who shall lovers be
And equal traitors be she and his sense.

At the next world, that is, at the next spring;

For I am a very dead thing, May he dream treason, and believe that he

In whom love wrought new alchymy. Meant to perform it, and confess, and die,

For his art did express And no record tell why:

A quintessence even from nothingness, His sons, wbich none of his may be,

From dull privations, and lean emptiness: Inherit nothing but his infamy:

He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot Or may he so long parasites have fed,

Of absence, darkness, death; things which art not. That he would fain be theirs, whom he hath bred, And at the last be circumcis'd for bread.

All others from all things draw all that's good, The venom of all step-dames, gamester's gall,

Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have; What tyrants and their subjects interwish,

I, by love's limbec, am the grave What plants, mine, beasts, fowl, fish,

Of all, that 's nothing. Oft a flood Can contribute, all ill, which all

Have we two wept, and so

Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow Prophets or poets spake; and all, which shall B' annex'd in schedules onto this by me,

To be two chaoses, when he did show Pall on that man; for if it be a she,

Care to aught else; and often absences
Nature before hand hath out-cursed me.

Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing the elixir grown;

Were I a man, that I were one
THE MESSAGE.

I needs must know; I should prefer,
Send home my long-stray'd eyes to me,

If I were any beast, Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee;

Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones But if they there have learn'd such ill,

detest,
Such forc'd fashions

And love, all, all some properties invest.
And false passions,

If I an ordinary nothing were,
That they be

As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
Made by thee
Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

But I am none; nor will my sun renew :

You lovers, for whose sake the lesser Sun Send home my harmless heart again,

At this time to the Goat is run Which no unworthy thought could stain ;

To fetch new lust, and give it you,
But if it be taught by thine

Enjoy your summer all,
To make jestings

Since she enjoys her long night's festival,
of protestings,

Let me prepare towards her, and let me call
And break both

This hour her vigil and her eve, since this
Word and oath,

Both the year's and the day's deep midnight is. Keep it still, 't is none of mine.

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Who will believe me, if I swear
THE BAIT.

That I have had the plague a year?

Who would not laugh at me, if I should say, Come, live with me, and be my love,

I saw a dash of powder burn a day? nd we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,

Ah! what a trifle is a heart, With silken lines and silver hooks.

If once into Love's bands it come!

All other griefs allow a part There will the river whisp'ring run,

To other griefs, and ask themselves but some. Warm'd by thine eyes more than the Sun: They come to us, but us Love draws, And there th' enamour'd fish will play,

He swallows us and never chaws : Begging themselves they may betray.

By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die;

He is the tyrant pike, and we the fry.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,

If 't were not so, what did become
Will amorously to thee swim,

Of my heart, when I first saw thee? Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

I brought a heart into the room,

But from the room I carried none with me: If thou to be so seen art loath

If it had gone to thee, I know By Sun or Moon, thou darken'st both;

Mine would have taught thine heart to show And if myself have leave to see,

More pity unto me: but Love, alas, I need not their light, having thee.

At one first blow did shiver it as glass.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or winding net:

Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any

place be empty quite,
Therefore I think my breast hath all

Those pieces still, though they do not unite:
And now as broken glasses show
A handred lesser faces, so

My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love can love no more.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors sleave silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes :
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait;
That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,
Alas! is wiser far than I.

VALEDICTION

PORBIDDING MOURNING.

As virtuous men pass mildly away,

And whisper to their souls to go,
Wbilst some of their sad friends do say,

“ Now his breath goes," and some say, " No;"

So let us melt, and make no noise,

No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, 'T were profanation of our joys

To tell the laity our love.

THE APPARITION.
When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,

And thou shalt think thee free
Of all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee feign'd vestal in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And be, whose thou art, being tir'd before,
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think

Thou call'st for more,
And in a false sleep even from thee shrink.
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bath'd in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie

A verier ghost than I;
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee: and since my love is spent,
I'd rather thou should'st painfully repent,
Than by my threatnings rest still innocent.

Moving of th’ Earth brings harms and fears,

Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,

Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love

(Whose sonl is sense) cannot admit Of absence, 'cause it doth remove

The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so far refin'd,

That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,

Careless eyes, lips, and hands, to miss.

THE

BROKEN HEART.

He is stark mad, whoever says

That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so soon decays,

But that it can ten in less space devour ;

Our two souls therefore, which are one,

Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to airy thinness beat.

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If they be two, they are two so

But, O, alas! so long, so far
As stiff twin compasses are two,

Our bodies why do we forbear?
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show

They are ours, though not we, we are
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

Th’intelligences, they the spheres,

We owe them thanks because they thus
And though it in the ceatre sit,

Did us to us at first convey,
Yet when the other far doth roam,

Yielded their sense's force to us,
It leans and hearkens after it,

Nor are dross to us, but allay.
And grows erect, as that coines home.

On man Heaven's influence works not so,

But that it first imprints the air,
Sach wilt thou be to me, who must,

For soul into the soul may flow,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run,

Though it to hody first repair.

As our blood labours to beget
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.

Spirits, as like souls as it can,
Because such fingers need to knit

That subtle knot, which makes us man;
So must pure lovers' souls descend

Taffections and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,

Else a great prince in prison lies;
ECSTASY.

T our bodies turn we then, and so

Weak men on love reveal'd may look ;
WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,

Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
A pregnant bank swelld up, to rest

But yet the body is the book ;
The violet's declining head,

And if some lover, such as we,
Sat we on one another's breast.

Have heard this dialogue of one,
Our hands were firmly cemented

Let him still mark us, he shall see
By a fast balm, which thence did spring,

Small change, when we 're to bodies gruwn. Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread

Our eyes upon one double string: So to engraft our hands as yet

Was all the means to make us one,
And pictures in our eyes to get

LOVE'S DEITY.
Was all our propagation.
As 'twixt two equal armies fate
Suspends uncertain victory,

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, ! Our souls (which, to advance our state,

Who dy'd before the god of love was born: 1: Were gone out) hung 'twixt her and me.

I cannot think that he, who then lov'd most, And whilst our souls negotiate there,

Sunk so low, as to love one which did scorn.
We like sepulchral statues lay,

But since this god produc'd a destiny,
All day the same our postures were,

And that vice-nature custom lets it be;
And we said nothing all the day.

I must love her that loves not me.
If any, so by love refind,
That he souls' language understood,

Sure they, which made him god, meant not so much, And by good love were grown all mind,

Nor he in his young godhead practis'd it.
Within convenient distance stood,

But when an even flame two hearts did touch, He (though he knew not which soul spake, His office was indulgently to fit

Because both meant, both spake, the same) Actives to passives, correspondency
Might thence a new concoction take,

Only his subject was; it cannot be
And part far purer than he came.

Love, till I love her that loves me.
This ecstasy doth unperplex

(We said) and tell us what we love, We see by this, it was not sex,

But every modern god will now extend
We see, we saw not what did move :

His vast prerogative as far as Jove,
But as all several souls contain

To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend,
Mixture of things they know not what,

All is the purlieu of the god of love.
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again,

Oh, were we waken'd by this tyranny
And makes both one, each this and that.

Tungod this child again, it could not be
A single violet transplant,

I should love her, who loves not me.'
The strength, the colour, and the size
(All which before was poor and scant)

Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I
Redoubles still and multiplies.

As tbough I felt the worst that Love could do?
When love with one another so

Love may make me leave loving, or might try
Interanimates two souls,

A deeper plague, to make her love me too,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,

Which, since she loves before, l 'm loath to see;
Defects of loveliness controls.

Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be,
We then, who are this new soul, know,

If she whom I love should love me.
Of what we are compos'd and made :
For the atoms, of which we grow,

Are soul, whom no change can invade.

I give my reputation to those
LOVE'S DIET.

Which were my friends; mine industry to foes :

To schoolmen i bequeath my doubtfulness; To what a cumbersome unwieldiness

My sickness to physicians, or excess; And burthenous corpulence my love had grown; To Nature all that I in rhyme have writ; But that I did, to make it less,

And to my company my wit. And keep it in proportion,

Thou, Love, by making me adore Give it a diet, made it fced upon,

Her, who begot this love in me before, That which love worst endures, discretion.

Taught'st me to make, as though I gave, when I do

but restore.
Above one sigh a-day I allow'd him not,
Of which my fortune and my faults bad part;
And if sometimes by stealth he got

To him, for whom the passing-bell next tolls, A she-sigh from my mistress' heart,

I give my physic books; my written rolls And thought to feast on that, I let him see

Of moral counsels I to Bedlam give: "T was neither very sound, nor meant to me.

My brazen medals, unto them which live

In want of bread; to them, which pass among If he wrung from me a tear, I brin'd it so

All foreigners, mine English tongue. With scorn or shame, that him it nourish'd not; Thou, Love, by making me love one, If he suck'd her's, I let him know

Who thinks her friendship a fit portion 'T' was not a tear which he bad got.

For younger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproporHis drink was counterfeit, as was his meat;

tion. Her eyes, which roll towards all, weep not, but sweat. Whatever she would dictate, I writ that,

Therefore I 'll give no more, but I 'll undo But burnt my letters, which she writ to me; The world by dying; because Love dies too. And if that favour made him fat,

Then all your beauties will be no more worth I said, “If any title be

Than gold in mines, wbere none doth draw it forth; Convey'd by this, ah !- what doth it avail

And all your graces no more use shall have, To be the fortieth man in an entail ?"

Than a sun-dial in a grave.

'Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me Thus I reclaim'd my buzzard love to fly

Love her, who doth neglect both me and thee, At what, and when, and how, and where I chose ;

T'invent and practise this one way, t'annihilate all Now negligent of sport I lie,

three.
And now, as other falc'ners use,
I spring a mistress, swear, write, sigb, and weep,
And the game kill'd, or lost, go talk or sleep.

THE FUNERAL.

THE WILL

Before I sign my last gasp, let me breathe,
Great Love, some legacies; I here bequeath
Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see;
If they be blind, then, Lure, I give them thee;
My tongue to Fame; t'ambassadors mine ears;

To women, or the sea, my tears;

Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore
By making me love her who 'd twenty more,
That I should give to none, but such as had too

much before.

WAQEver comes to shroud me, do not harm

Nor question much
That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm;
The mystery, the sign, you must not touch,

For 't is my ontward soul,
Viceroy to that, which unto Hear'n being gone,

Will leave this to control,
And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolu-

tion.

For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall

Through every part,
Can tie those parts, and make me one of all;
Those hairs, which upward grow, and strength and

art
Have from a better brain,
Can better do 't: except she meant that I

By this should know my pain,
As prisoners then are manacld, when they 're con-

demn'd to die,

My constancy I to the planets give;
My truth to them who at the court do live;
Mine ingenuity and openness
To Jesuits; to buffoons my pensiveness;
My silence t'any who abroad have been;

My money to a capuchin.
Thou, Love, taugh'st me, by appointing me
To love there, where no love receiv'd can be,
Only to give to such as have no good capacity.
My faith I give to Roman Catholics;
All my good works unto the schismatics
Of Amsterdam; my best civility
And courtship to an university :
My modesty I give to soldiers bare.

My patience let gamesters share.
Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me
Love her, that holds my love disparity,
Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity.

Whate'er she meant by 't, bury it with me,

For since I am
Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry,
If into other hands these relics came.

As 't was humility
T afford to it all that a soul can do;

So 't is some bravery,
That, since you would have none of me, I bury some

of you.

Be more than woman, she would get above
THE BLOSSOM.

All thought of sex, and think to move

My heart to study her, and not to love; Little think'st thou, poor flower,

Both these were monsters; since there must reside Whom I have watch'd six or seven days,

Falsehood in woman, I could more abide,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour She were by art than Nature falsify'd.
Gare to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,
And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough, Live, primrose, then, and thrive
Little think'st thou

With thy true number five;
That it will freeze anon, and that I shall

And women, whom this flower doth represent, To morrow find thee fall'n, or not at all.

With this mysterious number be content;

Ten is the furtbest number, if half ten Little think'st thou (poor heart,

Belongs unto each woman, then That labourest yet to nestle thee,

Each woman may take half us men: And think'st by hovering here to get a part Or if this will not serve their turn, since all In a forbidden or forbidding tree,

Numbers are odd or even, since they fall
And hop'st her stiffness by long siege to bow:) First into five, women may take us all.

Little think'st thou,
That thou to morrow, ere the Sun doth vake,
Must with this Sun and me a journey take.

THE RELIQUE.
But thou, which lov'st to be
Subtle to plague thyself, will say,

When my grave is broke up again “ Alas! if you must go, what's that to me?

Some second guest to entertain, Here lies my business, and here I will stay:

(Por graves have learn'd that woman-head, You go to friends, whose love and means present

To be to more than one a bed) Various content

And he that digs it, spies To your eyes, ears, and taste, and every part,

A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, If then your body go, what need your heart?'s

Will he not let us alone,

And think that there a loving couple lies? Well, then, stay here: but know,

Who thought that this device might be some way,
When thou hast staid and done thy most, To make their souls, at the last busy day,
A paked thinking heart, that makes no show,

Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?
Is to a woman but a kind of ghost;
How shall she know my heart; or, having none, If this fall in a time, or land,
Know thee for one ?

Where mass-devotion doth command,
Practice may make her know some other part, Then he that digs us up, will bring
But, take my word, she doth not know a heart.

Us to the bishop, or the king,

To make us reliques; then Meet me at London then

Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I
Twenty days hence, and thou shalt see

A something else thereby;
Me fresher and more fat, by being with men, All women shall adore us, and some men;
Than if I had staid still with ber and thee.

And since at such time miracles are sought,
For God's sake, if yon can, be you so too:

I would have that age by this paper taught
I will give you

What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.
There to another friend, whom you shall find
As glad to have my body as my mind.

First we lov'd well and faithfully,
Yet knew not what we lov'd, nor why ;
Diff'rence of sex we never knew,

No more than guardian angels do;
THE PRIMROSE;

Coming and going we

Perchance might kiss, but yet between those meals BEING AT MOUNTGOMERY CASTLE,

Our hands ne'er touch'd the seals,
Which Nature, injur'd by late law, set free:

These miracles we did; but now, alas !
U pon this primrose hill,

All measure and all language I should pass, (Where, if Heav'n would distill

Should I tell what a miracle she was,
A shower of raio, each several drop might go
To his own primrose, and grow manna so ;
And where their form and their infinitie
Make a terrestrial gallaxie,

THE DAMP.
As the small stars do in the sky)

I walk to find a true love; and I see When I am dead, and doctors know not why, That 't is not a mere woman, that is she,

And my friends' curiosity But must or more or less than woman be.

Will have me cut up, to survey each part,

And they shall find your picture in mine heart;
Yet know I not, which flower

You think a sudden damp of love
I wish, a six, or four;

Will through all their senses move,
For should my true-love less than woman be, And work on them as me, and so prefer
She were scarce any thing; and then should she Your murder to the name of massacre.

UPON THE HILL ON
WHICH IT IS SITUATE.

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