Then in the blazon of fweet beauties beft,
Of hand, of foote, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I fee their antique pen would haue exprest,
Euen fuch a beauty as you maister now.
So all their praises are but prophefies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring,
And for they look'd but with deuining eyes,
They had not ftill enough your worth to fing:
For we which now behold these present dayes,
Haue eyes to wonder, but lack toungs to praise.

CVII.

[OT mine owne feares, nor the prophetick foule,:

NOT

Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come,

Can yet the leafe of my true loue controule,

Suppofde as forfeit to a confin'd doome.
The mortall moone hath her eclipfe indur'de,
And the fad augurs mock their owne, prefage,
Incertenties now crowne them-felues affur'de,
And peace proclaimes oliues of endlesse age,
Now with the drops of this most balmie time,
My loue lookes fresh, and death to me fubfcribes,
Since fpight of him Ile liue in this poore rime,
While he infults ore dull and fpeachlesse tribes.
And thou in this fhalt finde thy monument,
When tyrants crefts and tombs of braffe are spent.

CVIII.

WHAT's in the braine that inck may character,
Which hath not figur'd to thee my true fpirit,

What's new to fpeake, what now to register,
That may expreffe my loue, or thy deare merit?

Nothing

Nothing fweet boy, but yet like prayers diuine,
I must each day fay ore the very fame,

Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Euen as when first I hallowed thy faire name."
So that eternall loue in loues fresh case,
Waighes not the dust and iniury of age,
Nor giues to neceffary wrinckles place,
But makes antiquitie for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of loue there bred,

Where time and outward forme would fhew it dead.

CIX.

Neuer fay that I was falfe of heart,

Though abfence feem'd my flame to quallifie,

As eafie might I from my felfe depart,

As from my foule which in thy breft doth lye :
That is my home of loue, if I haue rang'd,
Like him that trauels I returne againe,
Iuft to the time, not with the time exchang'd,
So that my felfe bring water for my staine,
Neuer beleeue though in my nature raign'd,
All frailties that befiege all kindes of blood,
That it could fo preposterouslie be stain'd,
To leaue for nothing all thy fumme of good
For nothing this wide vniuerfe I call,
Saue thou my rofe, in it thou art my all.

:

CX.

AL

LAS 'tis true, I haue gone here and there, And made my felfe a motley to the view, Gor'd mine owne thoughts, fold cheap what is most deare, Made old offences of affections new.

Moft

Moft true it is, that I haue lookt on truth
Afconce and ftrangely: but by all aboue,
These blenches gaue my heart an other youth,
And worse effaies prou'd thee my best of loue,
Now all is done, haue what shall haue no end,
Mine appetite I neuer more will grin'de

On newer proofe, to trie an older friend,

A God in loue, to whom I am confin'd.

Then giue me welcome, next my heauen the beft,
Euen to thy pure and most most louing brest,

The guiltie goddesse of my harmfull deeds,

That did not better for my life prouide,

Then publick meanes which publick manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,

And almost thence my nature is fubdu'd
To what it workes in, like the dyers hand,
Pitty me then, and wish I were renu'de,
Whilst like a willing pacient I will drinke,
Potions of eyfell gainft my ftrong infection,
No bitternesse that I will bitter thinke,
Nor double pennance to correct correction.

Pittie me then deare friend, and I affure yee,
Euen that your pittie is enough to cure mee.

γου

CXII.

YOUR loue and pittie doth th'impreffion fill,
Which vulgar fcandall ftampt vpon my brow,

For what care I who calles me well or ill,

So you ore-greene my bad, my good alow?

You

You are my all the world, and I must striue,
To know my fnames and praises from your tounge,
None else to me, nor I to none aliue,

That my steel'd fence or changes right or wrong,
In fo profound abifme I throw all care
Of others voyces, that my adders fence,
To cryttick and to flatterer ftopped are:
Marke how with my neglect I doe difpence,
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,

That all the world befides me thinkes y'are dead.

CXIII.

SIN

INCEI left you, mine eye is in my minde,
And that which gouernes me to goe about,
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seemes feeing, but effectually is out:
For it no forme deliuers to the heart

Of bird, of flowre, or fhape which it doth lack,
Of his quick obiects hath the minde no part,
Nor his owne vifion houlds what it doth catch:
For if it fee the rud'ft or gentlest sight,
The most sweet-fauor or deformedft creature,
The mountaine, or the fea, the day, or night:
The croe, or doue, it shapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more repleat, with you,

My most true minde thus maketh mine vntruc.

CXIV.

OR whether doth my minde being crown'd with you

Drinke vp the monarks plague this flattery?

Or whether shall I fay mine eie faith true,
And that your loue taught it this alcumie?

To

2

To make of monsters, and things indigeft,
Such cherubines as your fweet felfe resemble,
Creating euery bad a perfect best

As faft as obiects to his beames affemble:
Oh tis the first, tis flatry in my feeing,

WO

And my great minde moft kingly drinkes it vp,

Mine eie well knowes what with his, guft is greeing,
And to his pallat doth prepare
the cup.

If it be poifon'd, tis the leffer finne,

That mine eye loues it and doth firft beginne.

THOSE lines that I before haue writ doe lie,
Euen thofe that faid I could not loue you deerer,
Yet then my judgement knew no reason why,
My moft fuil flame should afterwards burne cleerer.
But reckening time,

Creepe in twixt hofe milliond accidents

vowes, and change decrees of kings,

Tan facred beautie, blunt the fharp' intents,
Divert ftrong mindes to th'courfe of altring things;

Alas why fearing of times tiranie,

Might I not then lay now I loue you beft,

Wacn I was certaine ore in-certainty,
Crowning the prefent, doubting of the rest.

Loue is a babe, then might I not fay fo
To giue full growth to that which ftill doth grow.

CXVI.

LET me not to the marriage of true mindes.
Admit impediments, loue is not loue

Which alters when it alteration findes,

bends with the remouer to remoue.

O no,