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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
Study me then, you who shall lovers be
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
Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.
Were I a man, that I were one
I needs must know; I should prefer,
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,
And love, all, all some properties invest.
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
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,
Enjoy your summer all,
Since she enjoys her long night's festival,
Let me prepare towards her, and let me call
This hour her vigil and her eve, since this
Both the year's and the day's deep midnight is. Keep it still, 't is none of mine.
Who will believe me, if I swear
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.
If 't were not so, what did become
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,
Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
place be empty quite,
Those pieces still, though they do not unite:
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
“ 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.
And thou shalt think thee free
Thou call'st for more,
A verier ghost than I;
Moving of th’ Earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
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,
Careless eyes, lips, and hands, to miss.
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
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
But, O, alas! so long, so far
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we, we are
Th’intelligences, they the spheres,
We owe them thanks because they thus
Did us to us at first convey,
Yielded their sense's force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man Heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air,
For soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to hody first repair.
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can,
That subtle knot, which makes us man;
Taffections and to faculties,
Else a great prince in prison lies;
T our bodies turn we then, and so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look ;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is the book ;
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
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,
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.
But since this god produc'd a destiny,
And that vice-nature custom lets it be;
I must love her that loves not me.
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.
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
Only his subject was; it cannot be
Love, till I love her that loves me.
(We said) and tell us what we love, We see by this, it was not sex,
But every modern god will now extend
His vast prerogative as far as Jove,
To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend,
All is the purlieu of the god of love.
Oh, were we waken'd by this tyranny
Tungod this child again, it could not be
I should love her, who loves not me.'
Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I
As tbough I felt the worst that Love could do?
Love may make me leave loving, or might try
A deeper plague, to make her love me too,
Which, since she loves before, l 'm loath to see;
Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be,
If she whom I love should love me.
Are soul, whom no change can invade.
I give my reputation to those
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
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,
Before I sign my last gasp, let me breathe,
To women, or the sea, my tears;
Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore
WAQEver comes to shroud me, do not harm
Nor question much
For 't is my ontward soul,
Will leave this to control,
For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall
Through every part,
By this should know my pain,
demn'd to die,
My constancy I to the planets give;
My money to a capuchin.
My patience let gamesters share.
Whate'er she meant by 't, bury it with me,
For since I am
As 't was humility
So 't is some bravery,
Be more than woman, she would get above
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,
With thy true number five;
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
Little think'st thou,
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,
Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?
Where mass-devotion doth command,
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
A something else thereby;
And since at such time miracles are sought,
I would have that age by this paper taught
What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.
First we lov'd well and faithfully,
No more than guardian angels do;
Coming and going we
Perchance might kiss, but yet between those meals BEING AT MOUNTGOMERY CASTLE,
Our hands ne'er touch'd the seals,
These miracles we did; but now, alas !
All measure and all language I should pass, (Where, if Heav'n would distill
Should I tell what a miracle she was,
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;
You think a sudden damp of love
Will through all their senses move,
UPON THE HILL ON