Where every something, being blents together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express'd, and not express'

s'd.

9-iii. 2.

263

O rejoice, Beyond a common joy; and set it down With gold on lasting pillars.

1-v.l.

264

I could weep,

And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy.

28-ii. 1. 265 0 my

soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus-high; and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.

37-ii. l.

266 Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up.

27-i.2. 267

His flaw'd heart, (Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly.

34_V.3. 268

If the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon" it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness, that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. 35-ü. 6. 269 The course of true love never did run smooth; But, either it was different in blood; Or else misgraffed, in respect of years; Or else it stood upon the choice of friends: Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied' night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say—Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. 7-i. 1.

270 O that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. That same wicked brat of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love.

10-iv. 1.

271
O hard-believing love! how strange it seems
Not to believe, and yet too credulous !
Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes,
Despair and hope make thee ridiculous !
The one doth flatter thee, in thoughts unlikely,
With likely thoughts, the other kills thee quickly.

Poems.

272
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse,

and
say

thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.

273
Farewell, one eye yet looks on thee;
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah! poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind:
What error leads, must err; O then conclude,
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.

26-V.2.

274 We cannot fight for love, as men may do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.

7-ii.2.

275 She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd; And I loved her, that she did pity them. 37-i. 3.

276
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone,
Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.

Poems.

277
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

17_V.1.
278
On a day, (alack the day!)
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks

may

blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou, for whom even Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love. 8-iv.3.

279
Love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

35--ü. 5.

280 O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day; Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away! 2-1.3.

281

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet.

35-ii. 2.

282 How silver-sweet sound lover's tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears! 35-ii. 2.

283 Love like a shadow flies, when substance love pursues; Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

3ii. 2.

284
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind;
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where.

7-i, 1.

Poems.

285 O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things else are thine. When thou impressest, what are precepts worth Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame? Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense,

'gainst shame; And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.

286 Love's counsellors should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense.

31-iii. 2.

287 Love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. 9-ii.6,

288
Tell me, where is Fancyl bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies. 9-iii. 2,

289 Love is full of unbefitting strains; All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance. 8-V.2,

290 Love is a smoke raised with a fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;