Poems, Poem 34 – Poem 56
THE LITANIE.
I.
The FATHER.
FAther of Heaven, and him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all elſe, for us
Thou madeſt, and govern'ſt ever, come
And re-create mee, now growne ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by ſelfe-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new faſhioned
I may riſe up from death, before I'am dead.
II.
The SONNE.
O Sonne of God, who ſeeing two things,
Sinne, and death crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tryed'ſt with what ſtings
The other could thine heritage invade;
O be thou nail'd unto my heart,
And crucified againe,
Part not from it, though it from thee would part,
But let it be by applying ſo thy paine,
Drown'd in thy blood, and in thy paſſion ſlaine.
III.
The HOLY GHOST.
O Holy Ghoſt, whoſe temple I
Am, but of mudde walls, and condenſed duſt,
And being ſacrilegiouſly
Halfe waſted with youths fires, of pride and luſt,
Muſt with new ſtormes be weatherbeat;
Double in my heart thy flame,
Which let devout ſad teares intend; and let
(Though this glaſſe lanthorne, fleſh, do ſuffer maime)
Fire, Sacrifice, Prieſt, Altar be the ſame.
IV.
The TRINITY.
O Bleſſed glorious Trinity,
Bones to Philoſophy, but milke to faith,
Which, as wiſe ſerpents diverſly
Moſt ſlipperineſſe, yet moſt entanglings hath,
As you diſtinguiſh'd undiſtinct
By power, love, knowledge bee,
Give mee a ſuch ſelfe different inſtinct
Of theſe let all mee elemented bee,
Of power, to love, to know, you unnumbred three.
V.
The Virgin MARY.
For that faire bleſſed Mother-maid,
Whoſe fleſh redeem'd us; That ſhe-Cherubin,
Which unlock'd Paradiſe, and made
One claime for innocence, and diſſeiz'd ſinne,
Whoſe wombe was a ſtrange heav'n, for there
God cloath'd himſelfe, and grew,
Our zealous thankes wee poure. As her deeds were
Our helpes, ſo are her prayers; nor can ſhe ſue
In vaine, who hath ſuch titles unto you.
VI.
The Angels.
And ſince this life our nonage is,
And wee in Wardſhip to thine Angels be,
Native in heavens faire Palaces
Where we ſhall be but denizen'd by thee,
As th'earth conceiving by the Sunne,
Yeelds faire diverſitie,
Yet never knowes which courſe that light doth run,
So let mee ſtudy, that mine actions bee
Worthy their ſight, though blinde in how they ſee.
VII.
The Patriarches.
And let thy Patriarches Deſire
(Thoſe great Grandfathers, of thy Church, which ſaw
More in the cloud, then wee in fire,
Whom Nature clear'd more, then us grace and law,
And now in Heaven ſtill pray, that wee
May uſe our new helpes right,)
Be ſanctified, and fructifie in mee;
Let not my minde be blinder by more light
Nor Faith by Reaſon added, loſe her ſight.
VIII.
The Prophets.
Thy Eagle-ſighted Prophets too,
Which were thy Churches Organs, and did ſound
That harmony, which made of two
One law, and did unite, but not confound;
Thoſe heavenly Poëts which did ſee
Thy will, and it expreſſe
In rythmique feet, in common pray for mee,
That I by them excuſe not my exceſſe
In ſeeking ſecrets, or Poëtiqueneſſe.
IX.
The Apoſtles.
And thy illuſtrious Zodiacke
Of twelve Apoſtles, which ingirt this All,
From whom whoſoever do not take
Their light, to darke deep pits, throw downe, and fall,
As through their prayers, thou'haſt let mee know
That their bookes are divine;
May they pray ſtill, and be heard, that I goe
Th'old broad way in applying; O decline
Mee, when my comment would make thy word mine.
X.
The Martyrs.
And ſince thou ſo deſirouſly
Did'ſt long to die, that long before thou could'ſt,
And long ſince thou no more couldſt dye,
Thou in thy ſcatter'd myſtique body wouldſt
In Abel dye, and ever ſince
In thine, let their blood come
To begge for us, a diſcreet patience
Of death, or of worſe life: for Oh, to ſome
Not to be Martyrs, is a martyrdome.
XI.
The Confeſſors.
Therefore with thee triumpheth there
A Virgin Squadron of white Confeſſors,
Whoſe bloods betroth'd, not marryed were;
Tender'd, not taken by thoſe Raviſhers:
They know, and pray, that wee may know,
In every Chriſtian
Hourly tempeſtuous perſecutions grow,
Tentations martyr us alive; A man
Is to himſelfe a Diocleſian.
XII.
The Virgins.
The cold white ſnowie Nunnery,
Which, as thy mother, their high Abbeſſe, ſent
Their bodies backe againe to thee,
As thou hadſt lent them, cleane and innocent,
Though they have not obtain'd of thee,
That or thy Church, or I,
Should keep, as they, our firſt integrity;
Divorce thou ſinne in us, or bid it die,
And call chaſt widowhead Virginitie.
XIII.
The Doctors.
Thy ſacred Academie above
Of Doctors, whoſe paines have unclaſp'd, and taught
Both bookes of life to us (for love
To know thy Scriptures tells us, we are wrought
In thy other booke) pray for us there
That what they have miſdone
Or miſ-ſaid, wee to that may not adhere,
Their zeale may be our ſinne. Lord let us runne
Meane waies, and call them ſtars, but not the Sunne.
XIV.
And whil'ſt this univerſall Quire,
That Church in triumph, this in warfare here,
Warm'd with one all-partaking fire
Of love, that none be loſt, which coſt thee deare,
Prayes ceaſleſly, 'and thou hearken too
(Since to be gratious
Our taske is treble, to pray, beare, and doe)
Heare this prayer Lord, O Lord deliver us
Frō truſting in thoſe prayers, though powr'd out thus.
XV.
From being anxious, or ſecure,
Dead clods of ſadneſſe, or light ſquibs of mirth,
From thinking, that great courts immure
All, or no h…ppineſſe, or that this earth
Is only for our priſon fram'd,
Or that thou art covetous
To them whom thou loveſt, or that they are maim'd
From reaching this worlds ſweet, who ſeek thee thus,
With all their might, Good Lord deliver us.
XVI.
From needing danger, to bee good,
From owing thee yeſterdaies teares to day,
From truſting ſo much to thy blood,
That in that hope, wee wound our ſoule away,
From bribing thee with Almes, to excuſe
Some ſinne more burdenous,
From light affecting, in religion, newes,
From thinking us all ſoule, neglecting thus
Our mutuall duties, Lord deliver us.
XVII.
From tempting Satan to tempt us,
By our connivence, or ſlack companie,
From meaſuring ill by vitious,
Neglecting to choake ſins ſpawne, Vanitie,
From indiſcreet humilitie,
Which might be ſcandalous,
And caſt reproach on Chriſtianitie,
From being ſpies, or to ſpies pervious,
From thirſt, or ſcorne of flame, deliver us.
XVIII.
Deliver us for thy deſcent
Into the Virgin, whoſe wombe was a place
Of midle kind▪ and thou being ſent
To'ungratious us, ſtaid'ſt at her full of grace,
And through thy poore birth, where firſt thou
Glorifiedſt Povertie,
And yet ſoone after riches didſt allow,
By accepting Kings gifts in the Epiphanie,
Deliver, and make us, to both waies free.
XIX.
And though that bitter agonie,
Which is ſtill the agonie of pious wits,
Diſputing what diſtorted thee,
And interrupted evenneſſe, with fits,
And through thy free confeſſion
Though thereby they were then
Made blind, ſo that thou might'ſt from thē have gone,
Good Lord deliver us, and teach us when
Wee may not, and we may blinde unjuſt men.
XX.
Through thy ſubmitting all, to blowes
Thy face, thy clothes to ſpoile; thy fame to ſcorne,
All waies, which rage, or Juſtice knowes,
And by which thou could'ſt ſhew, that thou waſt born,
And through thy gallant humbleneſſe
Which thou in death did'ſt ſhew,
Dying before thy ſoule they could expreſſe,
Deliver us from death, by dying ſo,
To this world, ere this world doe bid us goe.
XXI.
When ſenſes, which thy ſouldiers are,
Wee arme againſt thee, and they fight for ſinne,
When want, ſent but to tame, doth warre
And worke deſpaire a breach to enter in,
When plenty, Gods image, and ſeale
Makes us Idolatrous,
And love it, not him, whom it ſhould reveale,
When wee are mov'd to ſeeme religious
Only to vent wit, Lord deliver us.
XXII.
In Churches, when the'infirmitie
Of him which ſpeakes, diminiſhes the Word,
When Magiſtrates doe miſ-apply
To us, as we judge, lay or ghoſtly ſword,
When plague, which is thine Angell, raignes,
Or wars, thy Champions, ſwaie,
When Hereſie, thy ſecond deluge, gaines;
In th'houre of death, the'Eve of laſt judgement day,
Deliver us from the ſiniſter way.
XXIII.
Heare us, O heare us Lord; to thee
A ſinner is more muſique, when he prayes,
Then ſpheares, or Angels praiſes bee,
In Panegyrique Allelujaes,
Heare us, for till thou heare us, Lord
We know not what to ſay.
Thine eare to'our ſighes, teares, thoughts gives voice and word.
O Thou who Satan heard'ſt in Jobs ſicke day,
Heare thy ſelfe now, for thou in us doſt pray.
XXIV.
That wee may change to evenneſſe
This intermitting aguiſh Pietie,
That ſnatching cramps of wickedneſſe
And Apoplexies of faſt ſin, may die;
That muſique of thy promiſes,
Not threats in Thunder may
Awaken us to our juſt offices,
What in thy booke, thou doſt, or creatures ſay,
That we may heare, Lord heare us, when wee pray.
XXV.
That our eares ſickneſſe wee may cure,
And rectifie thoſe Labyrinths aright,
That wee by harkning, not procure
Our praiſe, nor others diſpraiſe ſo invite,
That wee get not a ſlipperineſſe,
And ſenſleſly decline,
From hearing bold wits jeaſt at Kings exceſſe,
To'admit the like of majeſtie divine,
That we may locke our eares, Lord open thine.
XXVI.
That living law, the Magiſtrate,
Which to give us, and make us phyſicke, doth
Our vices often aggravate,
That Preachers taxing ſinne, before her growth,
That Satan, and invenom'd men
Which well, if we ſtarve, dine,
When they doe moſt accuſe us, may ſee then
Us, to amendment, heare them; thee decline;
That we may open our eares, Lord lock thine.
XXVII.
That learning, thine Ambaſſador,
From thine allegeance wee never tempt,
That beauty, paradiſes flower
For phyſicke made, from poyſon be exempt,
That wit, borne apt, high good to doe
By dwelling lazily
On Natures nothing, be not nothing too,
That our affections kill us not, nor dye,
Heare us, weake ecchoes, O thou eare, and cry.
XXVIII.
Sonne of God heare us, and ſince thou
By taking our blood, oweſt it us againe
Gaine to thy ſelfe, or us allow;
And let not both us and thy ſelfe be ſlaine;
O lambe of God, which took'ſt our ſinne
Which could not ſtick to thee,
O let it not returne to us againe,
But Patient and Phyſition being free,
As ſinne is nothing, let it no where be.
SEnd home my long ſtrayd eyes to mee,
Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee,
Yet ſince there they have learn'd ſuch ill,
Such forc'd faſhions,
And falſe paſſions,
That they be
Made by thee
Fit for no good ſight, keep them ſtill.
Send home my harmleſſe heart againe,
Which no unworthy thought could ſtaine,
Which if it be taught by thine
To make jeſtings
Of proteſtings,
And breake both
Word and oath,
Keepe it, for then 'tis none of mine.
Yet ſend me back my heart and eyes,
That I may know, and ſee thy lyes,
And may laugh and joy, when thou
Art in anguiſh
And doſt languiſh
For ſome one
That will none,
Or prove as falſe as thou art now.
A nocturnall upon S. Lucies day, Being the ſhorteſt day.
TIs the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who ſcarce ſeaven houres herſelf unmaskes,
The Sunne is ſpent, and now his flasks
Send forth light ſquibs, no conſtant rayes;
The worlds whole ſap is ſunke:
The generall balme th'hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet life is ſhrunke,
Dead and enterr'd; yet all theſe ſeeme to laugh,
Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who ſhall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expreſſe
A quinteſſence even from nothingneſſe,
From dull privations, and leane emptineſſe
He ruin'd mee, and I am re-begot
Of abſence, darkneſſe, death; things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, ſoule, forme, ſpirit, whence they beeing have,
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and ſo
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaoſſes, when we did ſhow
Care to ought elſe; and often abſences
Withdrew our ſoules, and made us carcaſſes.
But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)
Of the firſt nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs muſt know, I ſhould preferre,
If I were any beaſt,
Some ends, ſome means; Yea plants, yea ſtones deteſt,
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 Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whoſe ſake, the leſſer Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new luſt, and give it you,
Enjoy your ſummer all,
Since ſhee enjoyes her long nights feſtivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her eve, ſince this
Both the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
Witchcraft by a picture.
I Fixe mine eye on thine, and there
Pitty my picture burning in thine eye,
My picture drown'd in a tranſparent teare,
When I looke lower I eſpie,
Hadſt thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and mard, to kill?
How many wayes mightſt thou performe thy will?
But now I have drunke thy ſweet ſalt teares,
And though thou poure more I'll depart;
My picture vaniſh'd, vaniſh feares,
That I can be endamag'd by that art;
Though thou retaine of mee
One picture more, yet that will bee,
Being in thine owne heart, from all malice free.
COme live with mee, and bee my love,
And wee will ſome new pleaſures prove
Of golden ſands, and chriſtall brookes:
With ſilken lines, and ſilver hookes.
There will the river whiſpering runne
Warm'd by thy eyes, more then the Sunne.
And there the'inamor'd fiſh will ſtay,
Begging themſelves they may betray.
When thou wilt ſwimme in that live bath,
Each fiſh, which every channell hath,
Will amorouſly to thee ſwimme,
Gladder to catch thee, then thou him.
If thou, to be ſo ſeene, beeſt loath,
By Sunne, or Moone, thou darkneſt both,
And if my ſelfe have leave to ſee,
I need not their light, having thee.
Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legges, which ſhells and weeds,
Or treacherouſly poore fiſh beſet,
With ſtrangling ſnare, or windowie net:
Let coarſe bold hands, from ſlimy neſt
The bedded fiſh in banks out-wreſt,
Or curious traitors, ſleaveſicke flies
Bewitch poore fiſhes wandring eyes.
For thee, thou needſt no ſuch deceit,
For thou thy ſelfe art thine owne bait,
That fiſh, that is not catch'd thereby,
Alas, is wiſer farre then I.
The Apparition.
WHen by thy ſcorne, O murdreſſe, I am dead,
And that thou thinkſt thee free
From all ſolicitation from mee,
Then ſhall my ghoſt come to thy bed,
And thee fain'd veſtall in worſe armes ſhall ſee;
Then thy ſicke taper will begin to winke,
And he, whoſe thou art then, being tyr'd before,
Will, if thou ſtirre, or pinch to wake him, thinke
Thou call'ſt for more,
And in falſe ſleepe will from thee ſhrinke,
And then poore Aſpen wretch, neglected thou
Bath'd in a cold quickſilver ſweat wilt lye
A veryer ghoſt then I;
What I will ſay, I will not tell thee now,
Leſt that preſerve thee'; and ſince my love is ſpent,
I'had rather thou ſhouldſt painfully repent,
Then by my threatnings reſt ſtill innocent.
Dull ſublunary lovers love
(Whoſe ſoule is ſenſe) cannot admit
Abſence, becauſe it doth remove
Thoſe things which elemented it.
But we by a love, ſo much refin'd,
That our ſelves know not what it is,
Inter-aſſured of the mind,
Care leſſe, eyes, lips, hands to miſſe.
Our two ſoules therefore, which are one,
Though I muſt goe, endure not yet
A breach, but an expanſion,
Like gold to ayery thinneſſe beate.
If they be two, they are two ſo
As ſtiffe twin compaſſes are two,
Thy ſoule the fixt foot, makes no ſhow
To move, but doth, if the'other doe.
And though it in the center ſit,
Yet when the other far doth rome,
It leanes, and hearkens after it,
And growes erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to mee, who muſt
Like th'other foot, obliquely runne.
Thy firmnes makes my circle juſt,
And makes me end, where I begunne.
The good-morrow.
I Wonder by my troth, what thou, and I
Did, till we lov'd, were we not wean'd till then?
But ſuck'd on countrey pleaſures; childiſhly?
Or ſnorted we in the ſeaven ſleepers den?
T'was ſo; But this, all pleaſures fancies bee.
If ever any beauty I did ſee,
Which I deſir'd, and got, t'was but a dreame of thee.
And now good morrow to our waking ſoules,
Which watch not one another out of feare;
For love, all love of other ſights controules,
And makes one little roome, an every where.
Let ſea-diſcoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have ſhowne,
Let us poſſeſſe one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces reſt,
Where can we finde two better hemiſpheares
Without ſharpe North, without declining Weſt?
What ever dyes, was not mixt equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love ſo alike, that none doe ſlacken, none can die.
Song.
Goe, and catche a falling ſtarre,
Get with child a mandrake roote,
Tell me, where all paſt yeares are,
Or who cleft the Divels foot,
Teach me to heare Mermaides ſinging,
Or to keep off envies ſtinging,
And finde
What winde
Serves to advance an honeſt minde.
If thou beeſt borne to ſtrange ſights,
Things inviſible to ſee,
Ride ten thouſand daies and nights,
Till age ſnow white haires on thee,
Thou, when thou retorn'ſt, wilt tell mee
All ſtrange wonders that befell thee,
And ſweare
No where
Lives a woman true, and faire.
If thou findſt one, let mee know,
Such a Pilgrimage were ſweet,
Yet doe not, I would not goe,
Though at next doore wee might meet,
Though ſhee were true, when you met her,
And laſt, till you write your letter,
Yet ſhee
Will bee
Falſe, ere I come, to two, or three.
Womans conſtancy.
NOw thou haſt lov'd me one whole day,
To morrow when thou leav'ſt, what wilt thou ſay?
Wilt thou then Antedate ſome new made vow?
Or ſay that now
We are not juſt thoſe perſons, which we were?
Or, that oathes made in reverentiall feare
Of Love, and his wrath, any may forſweare?
Or, as true deaths, true maryages untie,
So lovers contracts, images of thoſe,
Binde but till ſleep, deaths image, them unlooſe?
Or, your owne end to Juſtifie,
For having purpoſ'd change, and falſehood; you
Can have no way but falſehood to be true?
Vaine lunatique, againſt theſe ſcapes I could
Diſpute, and conquer, if I would,
Which I abſtaine to doe,
For by to morrow, I may thinke ſo too.
I Have done one braver thing
Then all the worthies did,
And yet a braver thence doth ſpring,
Which is, to keepe that hid.
It were but madnes now t'impart
The skill of ſpecular ſtone,
When he which can have learn'd the art,
To cut it can finde none.
So, if I now ſhould utter this,
Others (becauſe no more
Such ſtuffe to worke upon, there is,)
Would love but as before.
But he who lovelineſſe within
Hath found, all outward loathes,
For he who colour loves, and skinne,
Loves but their oldeſt clothes.
If, as I have, you alſo doe
Vertue' attir'd in woman ſee,
And dare love that, and ſay ſo too,
And forget the Hee and Shee;
And if this love, though placed ſo,
From prophane men you hide,
Which will no faith on this beſtow,
Or, if they doe, deride:
Then you have done a braver thing
Then all the Worthies did.
And a braver thence will ſpring.
Which is, to keepe that hid.
The Sunne Riſing.
BUſie old foole, unruly Sunne,
Why doſt thou thus,
Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?
Muſt to thy motions lovers ſeaſons run?
Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide
Late ſchoole boyes, and ſowre prentices,
Goe tell Court-huntſmen, that the King will ride,
Call countrey ants to harveſt offices,
Love, all alike, no ſeaſon knowes, nor clyme,
Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time.
Thy beames, ſo reverend, and ſtrong
Why ſhouldſt thou thinke?
I could eclipſe and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not loſe her ſight ſo long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the'India's of ſpice and Myne
Be where thou leftſt them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for thoſe Kings whom thou ſaw'ſt yeſterday,
And thou ſhalt heare, All here in one bed lay.
She'is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing elſe is.
Princes doe but play us, compar'd to this,
All honor's mimique; All wealth alchimie;
Thou ſunne art halfe as happy'as wee,
In that the world's contracted thus.
Thine age aſkes eaſe, and ſince thy duties bee
To warme the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art every where;
This bed thy center is, theſe walls, thy ſpheare.
The Indifferent.
I Can love both faire and browne,
Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betraies,
Her who loves loneneſſe beſt, and her who maskes and plaies,
Her whō the country form'd, & whō the town,
Her who beleeves, and her who tries,
Her who ſtill weepes with ſpungie eyes,
And her who is dry corke, and never cries;
I can love her, and her, and you and you,
I can love any, ſo ſhe be not true.
Will no other vice content you?
Wil it not ſerve your turn to do, as did your mothers?
Or have you all old vices ſpent, and now would finde out others?
Or doth a feare, that men are true, torment you?
Oh we are not, be not you ſo,
Let mee, and doe you, twenty know.
Rob mee, but binde me not, and let me goe.
Muſt I, who came to travaile thorow you,
Grow your fixt ſubject, becauſe you are true?
Venus heard me ſigh this ſong,
And by Loves ſweeteſt Part, Variety, ſhe ſwore,
She heard not this till now; and that it ſhould be ſo no more,
She went, examin'd, and return'd ere long,
And ſaid, alas, Some two or three
Poore Heretiques in love there bee,
Which thinke to ſtabliſh dangerous conſtancie.
But I have told them, ſince you will be true,
You ſhall be true to them, who'are falſe to you.
Loves Vſury.
FOr every houre that thou wilt ſpare mee now,
I will allow,
Uſurious God of Love, twenty to thee,
When with my browne, my gray haires equall bee;
Till then, Love, let my body raigne, and let
Mee travell, ſojourne, ſnatch, plot, have, forget,
Reſume my laſt yeares relict: thinke that yet
We'had never met.
Let mee thinke any rivalls letter mine,
And at next nine
Keepe midnights promiſe; miſtake by the way
The maid, and tell the Lady of that delay;
OnelyOnly let mee love none, no, not the ſport
From country graſſe, to comfitures of Court,
Or cities quelque choſes, let report
My minde tranſport.
This bargaine's good; if when I'am old, I bee
Inflam'd by thee,
If thine owne honour, or my ſhame, or paine,
Thou cover moſt, at that age thou ſhalt gaine,
Doe thy will then, then ſubject and degree,
And fruit of love, Love I ſubmit to thee,
Spare mee till then, I'll beare it, though ſhe bee
One that loves mee.
The Canonization.
FOr Godſake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palſie, or my gout,
My five gray haires, or ruin'd fortune flout,
With wealth your ſtate, your minde with Arts improve
Take you a courſe, get you a place,
Obſerve his honour, or his grace,
Or the Kings reall, or his ſtamped face
Contemplate, what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.
Alas, alas, who's injur'd by my love?
What merchants ſhips have my ſighs drown'd?
Who ſaies my teares have overflow'd his ground?
When did my colds a forward ſpring remove?
When did the heats which my veines fill
Adde one more, to the plaguie Bill?
Soldiers finde warres, and Lawyers finde out ſtill
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though ſhe and I do love.
Call us what you will, wee are made ſuch by love;
Call her one, mee another flye,
We'are Tapers too, and at our owne coſt die,
And wee in us finde the'Eagle and the dove,
The Phoenix ridle hath more wit
By us, we two being one, are it.
So, to one neutrall thing both ſexes fit.
Wee dye and riſe the ſame, and prove
Myſterious by this love.
Wee can dye by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tombes and hearſe
Our legends bee, it will be fit for verſe;
And if no peece of Chronicle wee prove,
We'll build in ſonnets pretty roomes;
As well a well wrought urne becomes
The greateſt aſhes, as halfe-acre tombes,
And by theſe hymnes, all ſhall approve
Us Canoniz'd for Love.
And thus invoke us; You whom reverend love
Made one anothers hermitage;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage,
Who did the whole worlds ſoule contract, & drove
Into the glaſſes of your eyes
So made ſuch mirrors, and ſuch ſpies,
That they did all to you epitomize,
Countries, Townes, Courts: Beg frow above
A patterne of our love.
The triple Foole.
I am two fooles, I know,
For loving, and for ſaying ſo
In whining Poëtry;
But where's that wiſe man, that would not be I,
If ſhe would not deny?
Then as th'earths inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge ſea waters fretfull ſalt away,
I thought, if I could draw my paines,
Through Rimes vexation, I ſhould them allay,
Griefe brought to numbers cannot be ſo fierce,
For, he tames it, that fetters it in verſe.
But when I have done ſo,
Some man, his art and voice to ſhow,
Doth Set and ſing my paine,
And, by delighting many, frees againe
Griefe, which verſe did reſtraine.
To Love, and Griefe tribute of Verſe belongs,
But not of ſuch as pleaſes when'tis read,
Both are increaſed by ſuch ſongs:
For both their triumphs ſo are publiſhed,
And I, which was two fooles, do ſo grow three;
Who are a little wiſe, the beſt fooles bee.
Lovers infiniteneſſe.
IF yet I have not all thy love,
Deare, I ſhall never have it all,
I cannot breath one other ſigh, to move;
Nor can intreat one other teare to fall.
And all my treaſure, which ſhould purchaſe thee,
Sighs, teares and oathes, and letters I have ſpent,
Yet no more can be due to mee,
Then at the bargaine made was ment,
If then thy gift of love were partiall,
That ſome to mee, ſome ſhould to others fall,
Deare, I ſhall never have Thee All.
Or if then thou gaveſt mee all,
All was but All, which thou hadſt then,
But if in thy heart, ſince, there be or ſhall,
New love created bee, by other men,
Which have their ſtocks intire, and can in teares,
In ſighs, in oathes, and letters outbid mee,
This new love may beget new feares,
For, this love was not vowed by thee,
And yet is was, thy gift being generall,
The ground, thy heart is mine, what ever ſhall
Grow there, deare, I ſhould have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet,
Hee that hath all can have no more,
And ſince my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou ſhouldſt have new rewards in ſtore,
Thou canſt not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canſt give it, then thou never gaveſt it:
Loves riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It ſtayes at home, and thou with loſing ſaveſt it:
But wee will have a way more liberall,
Then changing hearts, to joyne them, ſo wee ſhall
Be one, and one anothers All.
Song.
SWeeteſt love, I do not goe,
For wearineſſe of thee,
Nor in hope the world can ſhow
A fitter Love for mee,
But ſince that I
Muſt dye at laſt, 'tis beſt,
To uſe my ſelfe in jeſt
Thus by fain'd deaths to dye;
Yeſternight the Sunne went hence,
And yet is here to day,
He hath no deſire nor ſenſe,
Nor halfe ſo ſhort a way:
Then feare not mee,
But beleeve that I ſhall make
Speedier journeyes, ſince I take
More wings and ſpurres then hee.
O how feeble is mans power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot adde another houre,
Nor a loſt houre recall?
But come bad chance,
And wee joyne to'it our ſtrength,
And wee teach it art and length,
It ſelfe o'r us to'advance.
When thou ſigh'ſt, thou ſigh'ſt not winde,
But ſigh'ſt my ſoule away,
When thou weep'ſt, unkindly kinde,
My lifes blood doth decay.
It cannot bee
That thou lov'ſt mee, as thou ſay'ſt,
If in thine my life thou waſte,
Thou art the beſt of mee.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethinke me any ill,
Deſtiny may take thy part,
And may thy feares fulfill,
But thinke that wee
Are but turn'd aſide to ſleepe;
They who one another keepe
Alive, ne'r parted bee.
The Legacie.
VVHen I dyed laſt, and, Deare, I dye
As often as from thee I goe,
Though it be▪ but an houre agoe,
And Lovers houres be full eternity,
I can remember yet, that I
Something did ſay, and ſomething did beſtow;
Though I be dead, which ſent mee, I ſhould be
Mine owne executor and Legacie.
I heard mee ſay, Tell her anon,
That my ſelfe, that's you, not I,
Did kill me, and when I felt mee dye,
I bid mee ſend my heart, when I was gone,
But I alas could there finde none,
When I had ripp'd me, 'and ſearch'd where hearts did lye,
It kill'd mee againe, that I who ſtill was true,
In life, in my laſt Will ſhould cozen you.
Yet I found ſomething like a heart,
But colours it, and corners had,
It was not good, it was not bad,
It was intire to none, and few had part.
As good as could be made by art
It ſeem'd, and therefore for our loſſes ſad,
I meant to ſend this heart in ſtead of mine,
But oh, no man could hold it, for twas thine.
A Feaver.
OH doe not die, for I ſhall hate
All women ſo, when thou art gone,
That thee I ſhall not celebrate,
When I remember, thou waſt one.
But yet thou canſt not die, I know,
To leave this world behinde, is death,
But when thou from this world wilt goe,
The whole world vapors with thy breath.
Or if, when thou, the worlds ſoule, goeſt,
It ſtay, tis but thy carkaſſe then,
The faireſt woman, but thy ghoſt,
But corrupt wormes, the worthyeſt men.
O wrangling ſchooles, that ſearch what fire
Shall burne this world, had none the wit
Unto this knowledge to aſpire,
That this her feaver might be it?
And yet ſhe cannot waſt by this,
Nor long beare this torturing wrong,
For much corruption needfull is
To fuell ſuch a feaver long.
Theſe burning fits but meteors bee,
Whoſe matter in thee is ſoone ſpent.
Thy beauty, 'and all parts, which are thee,
Are unchangeable firmament.
Yet t'was of my minde, ſeiſing thee,
Though it in thee cannot perſever.
For I had rather owner bee
Of thee one houre, then all elſe ever.
Aire and Angels.
Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, ſo in a ſhapeleſſe flame,
Angells affect us oft, and worſhip'd bee,
Still when, to where thou wert, I came
Some lovely glorious nothing I did ſee,
But ſince, my ſoule, whoſe child love is,
Takes limmes of fleſh, and elſe could nothing doe,
More ſubtile then the parent is,
Love muſt not be, but take a body too,
And therefore what thou wert, and who
I bid Love aske, and now
That it aſſume thy body, I allow,
And fixe it ſelfe in thy lip, eye, and brow.
Whilſt thus to ballaſt love, I thought,
And ſo more ſteddily to have gone,
With wares which would ſinke admiration,
I ſaw, I had loves pinnace overfraught,
Ev'ry thy haire for love to worke upon
Is much too much, ſome fitter muſt be ſought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and ſcattring bright, can love inhere;
Then as an Angell, face, and wings
Of aire, not pure as it, yet pure doth weare,
So thy love may be my loves ſpheare;
Juſt ſuch diſparitie
As is twixt Aire and Angells puritie,
'Twixt womens love, and mens will ever bee.
Breake of day.
'TIs true, 'tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore riſe from me?
Why ſhould we riſe, becauſe 'tis light?
Did we lie downe, becauſe 'twas night?
Love which in ſpight of darkneſſe brought us hether,
Should in deſpight of light keepe us together.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
If it could ſpeake as well as ſpie,
This were the worſt, that it could ſay,
That being well, I faine would ſtay,
And that I lov'd my heart and honor ſo,
That I would not from him, that had them, goe.
Muſt buſineſſe thee from hence remove?
Oh, that's the worſt diſeaſe of love,
The poore, the foule, the falſe, love can
Admit, but not the buſied man.
He which hath buſineſſe, and makes love, doth doe
Such wrong, as when a maryed man doth wooe.
The Anniverſarie.
ALL Kings, and all their favorites,
All glory of honors, beauties, wits,
The Sun it ſelfe, which makes times, as they paſſe,
Is elder by a yeare, now, then it was
When thou and I firſt one another ſaw:
All other things, to their deſtruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This, no to morrow hath, nor yeſterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keepes his firſt, laſt, everlaſting day.
Two graves muſt hide thine and my coarſe,
If one might, death were no divorce,
Alas, as well as other Princes, wee,
(Who Prince enough in one another bee,)
Muſt leave at laſt in death, theſe eyes, and eares,
Oft fed with true oathes, and with ſweet ſalt teares;
But ſoules where nothing dwells but love;
(All other thoughts being inmates) then ſhall prove
This, or a love increaſed there above,
When bodies to their graves, ſoules from their graves remove.
And then wee ſhall be throughly bleſt,
But now no more, then all the reſt.
Here upon earth, we'are Kings, and none but wee
Can be ſuch Kings, nor of ſuch ſubjects bee;
Who is ſo ſafe as wee? where none can doe
Treaſon to us, except one of us two.
True and falſe feares let us refraine,
Let us love nobly, and live, and adde againe
Yeares and yeares unto yeares, till we attaine
To write threeſcore, this is the ſecond of our raigne.