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Ah me! but yet thou might'ft my feat forbear,
And chide thy beauty and thy ftraying youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there,

Where thou art forc'd to break a twofold truth:
Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine by thy beauty being falfe to me.

That thou haft her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be faid I lov'd her dearly;
That the hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A lofs in love that touches me more nearly.
Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye, -
Thou doft love her, because thou know'ft I love her;
And for my fake even fo doth fhe abuse me,
Suffering my friend, for my fake, to approve her.
If I lofe thee, my lofs is my love's gain,
And lofing her, my friend hath found that lofs:
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
And both for my fake lay on me this cross.
But here's the joy, my friend and I are one,
Sweet flattery, then the loves but me alone.

Foolish Difdain.

Venus with Adonis fitting by her,

Under a myrtle fhade, began to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, fhe fell to him.

Even thus (quoth fhe) the warlike god embrac'd me,
And then fhe clipt Adonis in her arms:

Even thus (quoth fhe) the warlike god unlac'd me,
As if the boy fhould ufe like loving charms.
Even thus (quoth fhe) he feized on my lips,
And with her lips on his did act the feizure

And as fhe fetched breath, away he fkips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleafure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kifs and clip me till I run away.

Ancient Antipathy.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together;
Youth is full of pleafance, age is full of care;
Youth like fummer morn, age like winter weather;
Youth like fummer brave, age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short;
Youth is nimble, age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.

Age I do abhor thee, youth I do adore thee
O! my love, my love is young:

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Age I do defy thee, O! fweet fhepherd hie thee; For, methinks, thou ftay'st too long.

Beauty's Valuation.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A fhining glofs, that fadeth fuddenly;
A flower that dies, when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle glafs, that's broken prefently.

A doubtful good, a glofs, a glass, a flower,
Loft, faded, broken, dead within an hour,

And as goods loft, are feld' or never found;
As faded glofs no rubbing will refresh;
As flowers dead, lie withered on the ground;
As broken glass, no cement can redress :

So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's loft,
In fpite of phyfic, painting, pain and coft.

Melancholy Thoughts.

If the dull fubftance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious diftance fhould not ftop my way;
For then, defpite of space, I would be brought
To limits far remote, where thou doft stay.
No matter then altho' my foot did stand
Upon the fartheft earth remov'd from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both fea and land,
As foon as think the place where he would be.
But, ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone;
But that fo much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leifure with my moan;
Receiving nought by elements fo flow,
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

The other two, flight air, and purging fire,
Are both with thee, where-ever I abide;
The firft my thought, the other my defire;
Thefe prefent, abfent, with swift motion flide.
For when these quicker elements are gone,
In tender embaffy of love to thee,

My life being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppreft with melancholy;
Until life's compofition be recured,

By those swift meflengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again assured
Of their fair health, recounting it to me.

This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I fend them back again, and ftrait grow fad,

Love's Lofs.

Sweet rofe, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, foon faded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the fpring:
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely fhaded,
Fair creature kill'd too foon by death's fharp fting:
Like a green plumb, that hangs upon a tree,
And falls (thro' wind) before the fall fhould be,

I weep for thee, and yet no caufe I have,
For why? Thou lefts me nothing in thy will;
And yet thou lefts me more than I did crave;
For why? I craved nothing of thee still:

O yes (dear friend) I pardon crave of thee,
Thy difcontent thou didft bequeath to me,

Love's Relief.

Full many a glorious morning have I feen,
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kiffing with golden face the meadows green;
Gilding pale ftreams with heavenly alchymy;
Anon permit the bafeft clouds to ride,
With ugly rack on his celeftial face,
And from the forlorn world his vifage hide,
Stealing unfeen to weft with this disgrace.
Even fo my fun one early morn did shine,
With all triumphant fplendor on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.

"thakspeare always by metaphins and figures involves in the thing considered

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Thash and possibles Yet him for this my love no whit difdaineth; exferences Suns of the world may ftain, when heaven's fun he mingles [ftaineth. Lathe, Ha

Why didft, thou promife fuch a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloke,

and air

gives a mil time that

to everything, and at the same he inspires human pelings, adds a riguity in his images to human native itself"

5.7!C.

To let bafe clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that thro' the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my ftorm-beaten face;
For no man well of fuch a falve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the difgrace:
Nor can thy fhame give phyfick to my grief,
Tho' thou repent, yet I have ftill the cross;
Th' offender's forrow lends but weak relief
To him, that beareth ftrong offences crofs.

Ah! but thofe tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich, and ranfom all ill deeds.

No more be griev'd at that which thou haft done,
Rofes have thorns, and filver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipfes ftain both moon and fun,
And loathfome canker lives in fweeteft bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trefpafs with compare,
Myfelf corrupting, falving thy amifs,
Excufing their fins more than their fins are:
For to my fenfual fault I bring incenfe,
Thy adverse party is thy advocate;
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence,
Such civil war is in my love and hate,

That I an acceffary needs must be

To that fweet thief which forely robs from me.

Unanimity.

Let me confefs, that we two must be twain,
Altho' our undivided loves are one:

So fhall those blots, that do with me remain
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.

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