Entitled in thy parts* do crowned sit, I make my love engrafted to this store: So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee: This wish I have; then ten times happy me!
How can my muse want subject to invent, While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent, For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou thyself dost give invention light? Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth Than those old nine, which rhymers invocate; And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is't but mine own, when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give That due to thee, which thou deserv'st alone. O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love, (Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,) And that thou teachest how to make one twain, By praising him here, who doth hence remain.
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.
Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; * And when a woman woos, what woman's son Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed. Ah me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there
Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth;
Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee, Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:- Thou dost love her, because thou knew'st I love her; And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross:
But here's the joy; my friend and I are one; Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected;* But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow's form form happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so? How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay? All days are nights to see, till I see thee, And nights, bright days, when dreams do show thee
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then, despite of space, I would be brought From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. No matter then, although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, As soon as think the place where he would be. But ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought, To leap large length of miles when thou art gone, But that, so much of earth and water wrought,* I must attend time's leisure with my moan; Receiving nought, by elements so slow, But heavy tears, badges of either's woe:
The other two, slight air and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide;† The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide. For when these quicker elements are gone In tender embassy of love to thee, My life, being made of four, with two alone, Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy; Until life's composition be recured By those swift messengers returned from thee, Who even but now come back again, assured Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, I send them back again, and straight grow sad.
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead, that thou in him dost lie, A closet never pierced with crystal eyes, But the defendant doth that plea deny, And says in him thy fair appearance lies. To 'cide this title is empannellèd A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart; And by their verdict is determinèd The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part: As thus:-mine eye's due is thine outward part, And my heart's right thine inward love of heart.
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other: When that mine eye is famished for a look,* Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, With my love's picture then my eye doth feast, And to the painted banquet bids my heart: Another time mine eye is my heart's guest, And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: So, either by thy picture or my love, Thyself away art present still with me; For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, And I am still with them, and they with thee; Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
How careful was I when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That, to my use, it might unusèd stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
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