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I carried from thee, dear; my true lip
Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. 31-i.2.
She would hang on him,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
Lights that do mislead the morn:
A lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desired.
30-V. 2. 324
If ever thou shalt love,
4-ii. 4. 325
I will wind thee in my arms.
Gently entwist,—the female ivy so
A loss of her, That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years, About his neck, yet never lost her lustre. 25-i.2.
327 A love, that makes breath poor, and speech unable.
328 You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound. ... I am too sore empierced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink. 35-i. 4.
329 Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their
books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
2-iii. 2. 331
I would have thee gone;
332 So holy, and so perfect is my love, And I'in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
Where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd' kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu; And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken' tears. 26-iv. 4.
Friends condemn'd, Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. 22—iii. 2,
Or have charged him
To encounter me with orisons, for then
337 What! keep a week away? seven days and nights ? Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!
37-iii. 4. 338
O, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name. 35- i. 2.
339 Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
340 Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. 7-v.1.
341 The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
heaven; And, as imagination bodies forth
a Meet me with reciprocal prayers. • My solicitations ascend to heaven on his behalf.
The male of the goshawk.
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
343 But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power; And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd; Love's feeling is more soft and sensible, Than are the tender horns of cockledd snails; Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: For valour is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? Subtle as sphinx; as sweet, and musical, As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write, Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs. 0, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. 8-iv. 3.
Why, what would you? ... Make me a willow cabin at your gate,