Will, will fulfill the treasure of thy loue,
I fill it full with wils, and my will one,
In things of great receit with ease we prooue,
Among a number one is reckon'd none.
Then in the number let me paffe vntold,
Though in thy ftores account I one must be,
For nothing hold me so it please thee hold,
That nothing me, a fome-thing fweet to thee.
Make but my name thy loue, and loue that still,
And then thou loueft me for my name is Will.
HOU blinde foole loue, what dooft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold and fee not what they fee:
They know what beautie is, fee where it lyes,
Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.
If eyes corrupt by ouer-partiall lookes,
Be anchord in the baye where all men ride,
Why of eyes falfehood haft thou forged hookes,
Whereto the iudgement of my heart is tide?
Why should my heart thinke that a feuerall plot,
Which my heart knowes the wide worlds common place?
Or mine eyes feeing this, fay this is not
To put faire truth vpon fo foule a face,
In things right true my heart and eyes haue erred,
And to this falfe plague are they now transferred.
HEN my loue fweares that fhe is made of truth,
I do beleeue her though I know the lyes,
That he might thinke me fome vntuterd youth,
Vnlearned in the worlds falfe fubtilties.
Thus vainely thinking that she thinkes me young,
Although she knowes my dayes are past the best,
Simply I credit her falfe fpeaking tongue,
On both fides thus is fimple truth fuppreft:
But wherefore fayes she not she is vniust ?
And wherefore fay not I that I am old?
O loues beft habit is in feeming trust,
And age in loue, loues not t'haue yeares told.
Therefore I lye with her, and the with me,
And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.
Call not me to iuftifie the wrong,
That thy vnkindneffe layes vpon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy toung, Vse power with power, and flay me not by art, Tell me thou lou'ft elfe-where; but in my fight, Deare heart forbeare to glance thine eye afide, What needit thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more then my ore-preft defence can bide? Let me excuse thee, ah my loue well knowes, Her prettie lookes haue beene mine enemies, And therefore from my face fhe turnes my foes, That they elfe-where might dart their iniuries: Yet do not fo, but fince I am neere flaine, Kill me out-right with lookes, and rid my paine.
BE wife as thou art cruell, do not preffe
My toung-tide patience with too much difdaine :
Leaft forrow lend me words and words expreffe,
The manner of my pittie wanting paine.
If I might teach thee witte better it weare,
Though not to loue, yet loue to tell me fo,
As teftie fick-men when their deaths be neere,
No newes but health from their phifitions know.
For if I fhould difpaire I fhould grow madde,
And in my madneffe might fpeake ill of thee,
Now this ill wrefting world is growne fo bad,
Madde flanderers by madde eares beleeued be.
That I may not be fo, nor thou be lyde,
Beare thine eyes ftraight, though thy proud heart goe wide.
N faith I doe not loue thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note,
But 'tis my heart that loues what they difpife,
Who in difpight of view is pleafd to dote.
Nor are mine eares with thy toungs tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling to bafe touches prone,
Nor tafte, nor fmell, defire to be inuited
To any fenfuall feaft with thee alone:
But my fiue wits, nor my fiue fences can
Difwade one foolish heart from feruing thee,
Who leaues vnfwai'd the likeneffe of a man,
Thy proud hearts flaue and vaffall wretch to be:
Ouely my plague thus farre I count my gaine,
That the that makes me finne, awards me paine.
OUE is my finne, and thy deare vertue hate, Hate of my finne, grounded on finfull louing, O but with mine, compare thou thine owne ftate, And thou fhalt finde it merrits not reproouing,
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That haue prophan'd their fcarlet ornaments,
And feald falfe bonds of loue as oft as mine,
Robd others beds reuenues of their rents.
Be it lawful! I loue thee as thou lou'ft those.
Whome thine eyes wooe as mine importune thee,
Roote pittie in thy heart that when it growes,
Thy pitty may deferue to pittied bee.
If thou dooft feeke to haue what thou dooft hide,
By felfe example mai'ft thou be denide.
OE as a carefull hufwife runnes to catch,
One of her fethered creatures broake away,
Sets downe her babe and makes all fwift dispatch
In purfuit of the thing the would haue ftay:
Whilft her neglected child holds her in chace,
Cries to catch her whofe bufie care is bent,
To follow that which flies before her face :
Not prizing her poore infants difcontent;
So runft thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilft I thy babe chace thee a farre behind,
But if thou catch thy hope turne back to me:
And play the mothers part kiffe me, be kind,
So will I pray that thou maift haue thy Will,
If thou turne back and my loude crying still,
TWO loues I haue of comfort and difpaire,
Which like two fpirits do fugieft me ftill,
The better angell is a man right faire:
The worfer fpirit a woman collour'd il.
To win me foone to hell my femall euill,
Tempteth my better angel from my sight,
And would corrupt my faint to be a diuel:
Wooing his purity with her fowle pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd finde,
Sufpect I may, yet not directly tell,
But being both from me both to each friend,
I geffe one angel in an others hel.
Yet this fhal I nere know but liue in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
THOSE lips that loues owne hand did make,
Breath'd forth the found that faid I hate,
To me that languifht for her fake:
But when she saw my wofull ftate,
Straight in her heart did mercie come,
Chiding that tongue that euer sweet,
Was vfde in giuing gentle dome:
And tought it thus a new to greete :
I hate fhe alterd with an end,
That follow'd it as gentle day,
Doth follow night who like a fiend
From heauen to hell is flowne away.
I hate, from hate away fhe threw,
And fau'd my life faying not you.
OOORE foule the center of my finfull earth,
My finfull earth thefe rebbell powres that thee array,
Why doft thou pine within and fuffer dearth
Painting thy outward walls fo coftlie gay?
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