Poems, Poem 57 – Poem 68
A Valediction of my name, in the window.
I.
MY name engrav'd herein,
Doth contribute my firmneſſe to this glaſſe,
Which, ever ſince that charme, hath beene
As hard, as that which grav'd it, was,
Thine eye will give it price enough, to mock
The diamonds of either rock.
II.
'Tis much that Glaſſe ſhould bee
As all confeſſing, and through-ſhine as I,
'Tis more, that it ſhewes thee to thee,
And cleare reflects thee to thine eye.
But all ſuch rules, loves magique can undoe,
Here you ſee mee, and I am you.
III.
As no one point, nor daſh,
Which are but acceſſaries to this name,
The ſhowers and tempeſts can outwaſh,
So ſhall all times finde mee the ſame;
You this intireneſſe better may fulfill,
Who have the patterne with you ſtill.
IIII.
Or if too hard and deepe
This learning be, for a ſcratch'd name to teach,
It, as a given deaths head keepe,
Lovers mortalitie to preach,
Or thinke this ragged bony name to bee
My ruinous Anatomie.
V.
Then, as all my ſoules bee,
Emparadiſ'd in you, (in whom alone
I underſtand, and grow and ſee,)
The rafters of my body, bone
Being ſtill with you, the Muſcle, Sinew, and Veine,
Which tile this houſe, will come againe.
VI.
Till my returne, repaire
And recompact my ſcattered body ſo.
As all the vertuous powers which are
Fix'd in the ſtarres, are ſaid to flow,
Into ſuch characters, as graved bee
When theſe ſtarres have ſupremacie:
VII.
So ſince this name was cut
When love and griefe their exaltation had,
No doore'gainſt this names influence ſhut,
As much more loving, as more ſad,
'Twill make thee; and thou ſhouldſt, till I returne,
Since I die daily, daily mourne.
VIII.
When thy inconſiderate hand
Flings ope this caſement, with my trembling name,
To looke on one, whoſe wit or land,
New battry to thy heart may frame,
Then thinke this name alive, and that thou thus
In it offendſt my Genius.
IX.
And when thy melted maid,
Corrupted by thy Lover's gold, and page,
His letter at thy pillow'hath laid,
Diſputed it, and tam'd thy rage,
And thou begin'ſt to thaw towards him, for this,
May my name ſtep in, and hide his.
X.
And if this treaſon goe
To an overt act, and that thou write againe;
In ſuperſcribing, this name flow
Into thy fancy, from the pane.
So, in forgetting thou remembreſt right,
And unaware to mee ſhalt write.
XI.
But glaſſe, and lines muſt bee,
No meanes our firme ſubſtantiall love to keepe;
Neere death inflicts this lethargie,
And this I murmure in my ſleepe;
Impute this idle talke, to that I goe,
For dying men talke often ſo.
Twicknam garden.
BLaſted with ſighs, and ſurrounded with teares,
Hither I come to ſeeke the ſpring,
And at mine eyes, and at mine eares,
Receive ſuch balmes, as elſe cure every thing,
But O, ſelfe traytor, I do bring
The ſpider love, which tranſubſtantiates all,
And can convert Manna to gall,
And that this place may thoroughly be thought
True Paradiſe, I have the ſerpent brought.
'Twere wholſomer for mee, that winter did
Benight the glory of this place,
And that a grave froſt did forbid
Theſe trees to laugh and mocke mee to my face;
But that I may not this diſgrace
Indure, nor yet leave loving, Love let mee
Some ſenſleſſe peece of this place bee;
Make me a mandrake, ſo I may grow here,
Or a ſtone fountaine weeping out my yeare.
Hither with chriſtall vyals, lovers come,
And take my teares, which are loves wine,
And try your miſtreſſe Teares at home,
For all are falſe, that taſt not juſt like mine;
Alas▪ hearts do not in eyes ſhine,
Nor can you more judge womens thoughts by teares,
Then by her ſhadow, what ſhe weares.
O perverſe ſexe, where none is true but ſhee,
Who's therefore true, becauſe her truth kills mee.
Valediction to his booke.
I'Ll tell thee now (deare Love) what thou ſhalt doe
To anger deſtiny, as ſhe doth us,
How I ſhall ſtay, though ſhe Eſloygne me thus
And how poſterity ſhall know it too;
How thine may out-endure
Sybills glory, and obſcure
Her who from Pindar could allure,
And her, through whoſe helpe Lucan is not lame,
And her, whoſe booke (they ſay) Homer did finde, and name.
Study our manuſcripts, thoſe Myriades
Of letters, which have paſt twixt thee and mee,
Thence write our Annals, and in them will bee
To all whom loves ſubliming fire invades,
Rule and example found;
There, the faith of any ground
No ſchiſmatique will dare to wound,
That ſees, how Love this grace to us affords,
To make, to keep, to uſe, to be theſe his Records.
This Booke, as long-liv'd as the elements,
Or as the worlds forme, this all-graved tome
In cypher writ, or new made Idiome;
Wee for loves clergie only'are inſtruments,
When this booke is made thus,
Should againe the ravenous
Vandals and the Goths invade us,
Learning were ſafe; in this our Univerſe
Schooles might learne Sciences, Spheares Muſick, Angels Verſe,
Here Loves Divines, (ſince all Divinity
Is love or wonder) may finde all they ſeeke,
Whether abſtract ſpirituall love they like,
Their Soules exhal'd with what they do not ſee,
Or loth ſo to amuze,
Faiths infirmitie, they chuſe
Something which they may ſee and uſe;
For, though minde be the heaven, where love doth ſit,
Beauty a convenient type may be to figure it.
Here more then in their bookes may Lawyers finde,
Both by what titles, Miſtreſſes are ours,
And how prerogative theſe ſtates devours,
Transferr'd from Love himſelfe, to womankinde.
Who though from heart, and eyes,
They exact great ſubſidies,
Forſake him who on them relies
And for the cauſe, honour, or conſcience give,
Chimeraes, vaine as they, or their prerogative.
Here Stateſmen, (or of them, they which can reade,)
May of their occupation finde the grounds,
Love and their art alike it deadly wounds,
If to conſider what 'tis, one proceed,
In both they doe excell
Who the preſent governe well,
Whoſe weakneſſe none doth, or dares tell;
In this thy booke, ſuch will there ſomething ſee,
As in the Bible ſome can finde out Alchimy.
Thus vent thy thoughts; abroad I'll ſtudie thee,
As he removes farre off, that great heights takes;
How great love is, preſence beſt tryall makes,
But abſence tryes how long this love will bee;
To take a latitude
Sun, or ſtarres, are fitlieſt view'd
At their brighteſt, but to conclude
Of longitudes, what other way have wee,
But to marke when, and where the darke eclipſes bee?
GOod wee muſt love, and muſt hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good ſtill,
But theſe are things indifferent,
Which wee may neither hate, nor love,
But one, and then another prove,
As wee ſhall finde our fancy bent.
If then at firſt wiſe Nature had,
Made women either good or bad,
Then ſome wee might hate, and ſome chuſe,
But ſince ſhee did them ſo create,
That we may neither love, nor hate,
OnelyOnly this reſt, All, all may uſe.
If they were good it would be ſeene,
Good is as viſible as greene,
And to all eyes it ſelfe betrayes,
If they were bad, they could not laſt,
Bad doth it ſelfe, and others waſt,
So, they deſerve nor blame, nor praiſe.
But they are ours as fruits are ours,
He that but taſts, he that devours,
And he that leaves all, doth as well,
Chang'd loves are but chang'd ſorts of meat,
And when hee hath the kernell eate,
Who doth not fling away the ſhell?
Loves growth.
I Scarce beleeve my love to be ſo pure
As I had thought it was,
Becauſe it doth endure
Viciſſitude, and ſeaſon, as the graſſe;
Me thinkes I lyed all winter, when I ſwore,
My love was infinite, if ſpring make'it more.
But if this medicine, love, which cures all ſorrow
With more, not onelyonly bee no quinteſſence,
But mixt of all ſtuffes, paining ſoule, or ſenſe,
And of the Sunne his working vigour borrow,
Love's not ſo pure, and abſtract, as they uſe
To ſay, which have no Miſtreſſe but their Muſe,
But as all elſe, being elemented too,
Love ſometimes would contemplate, ſometimes do
And yet no greater, but more eminent,
Love by the ſpring is growne;
As, in the firmament,
Starres by the Sunne are not inlarg'd, but ſhowne,
Gentle love deeds, as bloſſomes on a bough,
From loves awakened root do bud out now.
If, as in water ſtir'd more circles bee
Produc'd by one, love ſuch additions take,
Thoſe like ſo many ſpheares, but one heaven make,
For, they are all concentrique unto thee,
And though each ſpring doe adde to love new heate,
As princes doe in times of action get
New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
No winter ſhall abate the ſprings encreaſe.
Loves exchange.
LOve, any devill elſe but you,
Would for a given Soule give ſomething too.
At Court your fellowes every day,
Give th'art of Riming, Huntſmanſhip, or play,
For them which were their owne before;
OnelyOnly I have nothing which gave more,
But am, alas, by being lowly, lower.
I aske no diſpenſation now
To falſifie a teare, or ſigh, or vow,
I do not ſue from thee to draw
A non obſtante on natures law,
Theſe are prerogatives, they inhere
In thee and thine; none ſhould forſweare
Except that hee Loves minion were.
Give mee thy weakneſſe, make mee blinde,
Both wayes, as thou and thine, in eies and minde;
Love, let me never know that this
Is love, or, that love childiſh is.
Let me not know that others know
That ſhe knowes my paines, leaſt that ſo
A tender ſhame make me mine owne new woe.
If thou give nothing, yet thou'art juſt,
Becauſe I would not thy firſt motions truſt;
Small townes which ſtand ſtiffe, till great ſhot
Enforce them, by warres law condition not.
Such in loves warfare is my caſe,
I may not article for grace,
Having put love at laſt to ſhew this face.
This face, by which he could commnd
And change the Idolatrie of any land,
This face, which whereſoe'r it comes,
Can call vow'd men from cloiſters, dead from tombes,
And melt both Poles at once, and ſtore
Deſerts with cities, and make more
Mynes in the earth, then Quarries were before.
For, this love is enrag'd with mee,
Yet kills not; if I muſt example bee
To future Rebells; If th'unborne
Muſt learne, by my being cut up, and torne:
Kill, and diſſect me, Love; for this
Torture againſt thine owne end is,
Rack't carcaſſes make ill Anatomies.
SOme man unworthy to be poſſeſſor
Of old or new love, himſelfe being falſe or weake,
Thought his paine and ſhame would be leſſer,
If on womankind he might his anger wreake,
And thence a law did grow,
One might but one man know;
But are other creatures ſo?
Are Sunne, Moone, or Starres by law forbidden,
To ſmile where they liſt, or lend away their light?
Are birds divorc'd, or are they chidden
If they leave their mate, or lie abroad a night?
Beaſts doe no joyntures loſe
Though they new lovers chooſe,
But we are made worſe then thoſe.
Who e'r rigg'd faire ſhip to lie in harbors,
And not to ſeeke new lands, or not to deale withall?
Or built faire houſes, ſet trees, and arbors,
Only to lock up, or elſe to let them fall?
Good is not good, unleſſe
A thouſand it poſſeſſe,
But doth waſt with greedineſſe.
The Dreame.
DEare love, for nothing leſſe then thee
Would I have broke this happy dreame,
It was a theame
For reaſon, much too ſtrong for phantaſie,
Therefore thou wakd'ſt me wiſely; yet
My Dreame thou brok'ſt not, but continued'ſt it,
Thou art ſo truth, that thoughts of thee ſuffice,
To make dreames truths; and fables hiſtories;
Enter theſe armes, for ſince thou thoughtſt it beſt,
Not to dreame all my dreame, let's act the reſt.
As lightning, or a Tapers light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noiſe wak'd mee;
Yet I thought thee
(For thou loveſt truth) an Angell, at firſt ſight,
But when I ſaw thou ſaweſt my heart,
And knew'ſt my thoughts, beyond an Angels art,
When thou knew'ſt what I dreamt, whē thou knew'ſt whē
Exceſſe of joy would wake me, and cam'ſt then,
I muſt confeſſe, it could not chuſe but bee
Prophane, to thinke thee any thing but thee.
Comming and ſtaying ſhow'd thee, thee,
But riſing makes me doubt, that now,
Thou art not thou.
That love is weake, where feare's as ſtrong as hee;
'Tis not all ſpirit, pure, and brave,
If mixture it of Feare, Shame, Honor have;
Perchance as torches which muſt ready bee,
Men light and put out, ſo thou deal'ſt with mee,
Thou cam'ſt to kindle, goeſt to come; Then I
Will dreame that hope againe, but elſe would die.
A Valediction of weeping.
LEt me powre forth
My teares before thy face, whil'ſt I ſtay here,
For thy face coines them, and thy ſtampe they beare,
And by this Mintage they are ſomething worth,
For thus they bee
Pregnant of thee,
Fruits of much griefe they are, emblemes of more,
When a teare falls, that thou falſt which it bore,
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers ſhore
On a round ball
A workeman that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afrique, and an Aſia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, All,
So doth each teare,
Which thee doth weare,
A globe, yea world by that impreſſion grow,
Till thy teares mixt with mine doe overflow
This world, by waters ſent from thee, my heaven diſſolved ſo.
O more then Moone,
Draw not up ſeas to drowne me in thy ſpheare,
Weepe me not dead, in thine armes, but forbeare
To teach the ſea, what it may doe too ſoone,
Let not the winde
Example finde,
To doe me more harme, then it purpoſeth,
Since thou and I ſigh one anothers breath,
Who e'r ſighes moſt, is cruelleſt, and haſts the others death.
Loves Alchymie.
SOme that have deeper digg'd loves Myne then I,
Say, where his centrique happineſſe doth lie:
I have lov'd, and got, and told,
But ſhould I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I ſhould not finde that hidden myſterie;
Oh, 'tis impoſture all:
And as no chymique yet th'Elixar got,
But glorifies his pregnant pot,
If by the way to him befall
Some odoriferous thing, or medicinall,
So, lovers dreame a rich and long delight,
But get a winter-ſeeming ſummers night.
Our eaſe, our thrift, our honor, and our day,
Shall we, for this vaine Bubles ſhadow pay?
Ends love in this, that my man,
Can be as happy'as I can; If he can
Endure the ſhort ſcorne of a Bridegroomes play?
That loving wretch that ſweares,
'Tis not the bodies marry, but the mindes,
Which he in her Angelique findes,
Would ſweare as juſtly, that he heares,
In that dayes rude hoarſe minſtralſey, the ſpheares.
Hope not for minde in women; at their beſt,
Sweetneſſe, and wit they'are, but, Mummy, poſſeſt▪
The Flea.
MArke but this flea, and marke in this,
How little that which thou deny'ſt me is;
It ſuck'd me firſt, and now ſucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled bee;
Thou know'ſt that this cannot be ſaid
A ſinne, nor ſhame nor loſſe of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoyes before it wooe,
And pamper'd ſwells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more then wee would doe.
Oh ſtay, three lives in one flea ſpare,
Where wee almoſt, yea more then maryed are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our mariage bed, and mariage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloyſterd in theſe living walls of Jet.
Though uſe make you apt to kill mee,
Let not to that, ſelfe murder added bee,
And ſacrilege, three ſinnes in killing three.
Cruell and ſodaine, haſt thou ſince
Purpled thy naile, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty bee,
Except in that drop which it ſuckt from thee?
Yet thou triumph'ſt, and ſaiſt that thou
Find'ſt not thy ſelfe, nor mee the weaker now;
'Tis true, then learne how falſe, feares bee;
Juſt ſo much honor, when thou yeeld'ſt to mee,
Will waſt, as this flea's death tooke life from thee.
The Curſe.
WHo ever gueſſes, thinks, or dreames he knowes
Who is my miſtris, wither by this curſe;
His only, and only his purſe
May ſome dull heart to love diſpoſe,
And ſhee yeeld then to all that are his foes;
May he be ſcorn'd by one, whom all elſe ſcorne,
Forſweare to others, what to her he'hath ſworne,
With feare of miſſing, ſhame of getting torne;
Madneſſe his ſorrow, gout his cramp, may hee
Make, by but thinking, who hath made him ſuch:
And may he feele no touch
Of conſcience, but of fame, and bee
Anguiſh'd, not that 'twas ſinne, but that 'twas ſhee▪
In early and long ſcarceneſſe may he rot,
For land which had been his, if he had not
Himſelfe inceſtuouſly an heire begot:
May he dreame Treaſon, and beleeve, that hee
Meant to performe it, and confeſſe, and die,
And no record tell why:
His ſonnes, which none of his may bee,
Inherite nothing but his infamie:
Or may he ſo long Paraſites have fed,
That he would faine be theirs, whom he hath bred,
And at the laſt be circumciſ'd for bread:
The venom of all ſtepdames, gamſters gall,
What Tyrans, and their ſubjects interwiſh,
What Plants, Myne, Beaſts, Foule, Fiſh,
Can contribute, all ill, which all
Prophets, or Poets ſpake; And all which ſhall
Be annex'd in ſchedules unto this by mee,
Fall on that man; For if it be a ſhee
Nature before hand hath out-curſed mee.