Against that time I do ensconce me here,
All this the world knows well; yet none knows well
And for my sake even so she doth abuse me,
And of this book, this learning thou mayst taste.
And that they measure that in guess by thy deeds;
And there Love reigns, and all Love's loving parts,
And therefore I have slept in your report,
And thy soul knows will is admitted there;
And wherefore say I not that I am old?
And yet this removed time was summer's time;
Are nothing novel to me, nothing strange;
As those whose beauties make them proudly cruel;
Be fed within, without be rich no more:
Be griev'd no more at that which thou hast done:
Both thy registers and thee I defy,
But I see no such roses in her cheeks;
But in the onset come: so I shall taste
But it had stol'n sweet or colour from thee.
But now black is beauty's successive heir,
But stay like a sad slave and think of nought
But that thou lov'st none is most evident:
But then a journey begins in my head
But wherefore do you not a mightier way
But, for their virtue is only their show,
Buy divine terms in selling hours of dross;
Dear religious love hath stol'n from mine eye,
Diest unlook'd on unless thou get a son.
Do shake hands in consent to torture me,
Ere you were born beauty's summer was dead.
Even as when I first hallow'd thy fair name.
Expressing one thing, leaves out difference.
Far off from me, with others all too near.
For it delivers no form to the heart
For such a time I do now fortify
For sweet compound; forgoing simple savour,
From thy behaviour; beauty he doth give,
Full many a glorious morning I have seen
Hated past reason, as a swallow'd bait,
Hold it no want of conscience that I call
Hold me for nothing, so it please thee hold
How can I return then in happy plight,
How careful I was when I took my way,
How heavy I do journey on the way,
How mine eyes have out of their spheres been fitted,
Hunted past reason; and no sooner had,
I am more than enough that vex'd thee still,
I am past cure, now Reason is past care,
I better all these in one general best.
I condemned the lily for thy hand,
I have been absent from you in the spring,
I have invoked thee so oft for my Muse,
I have lost him; thou hast both him and me:
I have not lock'd thee up in any chest,
I have seen damask'd roses, red and white,
I have this wish ; then ten times happy me!
I have two loves, of comfort and despair,
I love thine eyes, and they, as pitying me,
I may suspect, yet not directly tell;
I might as easy from my self depart
I noted more flowers, yet I none could see,
I watch for thee, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
I will strangle acquaintance and look strange;
If Time have graven any wrinkle there;
I'll forfeit myself, so that other mine
I'll read theirs for their style, his for his love.
In praise of dead ladies and lovely knights,
In process of the seasons I have seen,
In winged speed no motion I shall know,
It is most true, that I have look'd on truth
Laid on purpose to make the taker mad:
Lest well-seeing eyes thy foul faults should find.
Look what is best, that I wish best in thee:
Love is so true a fool, that in your will,
Make some vial sweet; treasure thou some place
May disgrace time and wretched minutes kill.
Methinks no face is so gracious as mine,
Mourn for me no longer when I am dead
My love is kind to-day, to-morrow kind,
No sooner enjoy'd but despised straight;
Now you stand on the top of happy hours,
O absence! what a torment thou wouldst prove,
O! call me not to justify the wrong
O! I am sure the wits of former days,
O! she stores him, to show what wealth she had
O! what a happy title I do find,
O! what a mansion those vices have got
Of flowers different in odour and in hue,
Of his quick objects the mind hath no part,
Of thee, thy record can never be miss'd.
Of their sweet deaths sweetest odours are made:
On both sides simple truth is thus suppressed:
Shall find reasons of settled gravity;
Shall hate be lodg'd fairer than gentle love?
She quenched this brand in a cool well by,
'Since going from thee, he went wilful-slow,
Since saucy jacks are so happy in this,
So I am as the rich, whose blessed key,
So I flatter the swart-complexion'd night,
So I lose him through my unkind abuse.
So I shall live, supposing thou art true,
So thou runn'st after that which flies from thee,
Stand worthy perusal against thy sight;
Straight in her heart mercy did come,
Such your beauty seems still. Three winters cold,
Sweets war not with sweets, joy delights in joy:
That beauty may still live in thine or thee.
That better is, by evil made still better;
That due of many is now thine alone:
That hath glazed his windows with thine eyes.
That I have been frequent with unknown minds,
That nothing me, a sweet something to thee:
That you yourself, being extant, might well show
The argument is all bare of more worth
The forward violet thus I did chide:
Then I can drown an eye, unused to flow,
Then I can grieve at grievances foregone,
Then I lacked matter; that enfeebled mine.
Then I look death my days should expiate.
Then I may dare to boast how I do love thee;
Then I need not to fear the worst of wrongs,
Then I should spur, though mounted on the wind,
Then no horse can with my desire keep pace;
Then were summer's distillation not left,
Thence it comes that my name receives a brand,
They do rightly inherit heaven's graces,
They had not enough skill your worth to sing:
This lives so long, and this gives life to thee.
This were to be made new when thou art old,
Those lines that I have writ before do lie,
Thou art black in nothing save in thy deeds,
Thou gav'st thy self , thy own worth then not knowing,
Thou hast, the master mistress of my passion;
Thou see'st in me the glowing of such fire,
Thou see'st in me the twilight of such day
Though thou repent, yet I still have the loss:
Thus his cheek is the map of days outworn,
Thus I do pine and surfeit day by day,
Thus I have had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
Thus my love can excuse the slow offence
Thy edge should be blunter than appetite,
Thy love be mine and thy love's use their treasure.
Thy self away, art still present with me;
Thy summer in thee, ere thou be distill'd:
Tir'd with all these, from these I would be gone,
To pardon yourself of self-doing crime.
To this I call witness the fools of time,
To weigh how I once suffer'd in your crime.
To worse subjects have given admiring praise.
Translated to truths, and for true things deem'd.
What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen!
What wretched errors my heart hath committed,
When I am absent sometime from thy heart,
When I am perhaps compounded with clay,
When I see sometime lofty towers down-raz'd,
When I wink most, then do mine eyes best see,
When impeach'd most, stands least in thy control.
When impregnable rocks are not so stout,
Which he answers heavily with a groan,
Which I pay new as if not paid before.
Who hast grown by waning, and therein show'st
Who is put with his fear beside his part,
With what I enjoy most contented least;
Yet I shall ne'er know this, but live in doubt,
Yet it doth steal sweet hours from love's delight.
Yet it seem'd winter still, and you away,
Yet what is the best take the worst to be.
You are so to my thoughts as food to life,
You shall pace forth; your praise shall still find room
