Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than marry'd are.
This flea is you and I, and this

Our marriage bed and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w' are met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,

Except in that blood, which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now;
'Tis true; then learn how false fears be:
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to mee,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

THE GOOD-MORROW.

I worden, by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we lov'd were we not wean'd till then,
But suck'd on childish pleasures sillily?
Or slumbred we in the seven-sleepers den?
Twas so; but as all pleasures fancies be,
If ever any beauty I did see,

Which I desir'd, and got, 't was but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an every-where.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other worlds our world have shown,
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two fitter hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;

If our two loves be one, both thou and I
Love just alike in all, none of these loves can die

We are not just those persons, which we were?
Or, that oaths, made in reverential fear

Of Love and his wrath, any may forswear?
Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,
So lovers' contracts, images of those,

Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose?
Or, your own end to justify

For having purpos'd change and falsehood, you
Can have no way but falsehood to be true?
Vain lunatic, against these scapes I could

Dispute, and conquer, if I would;
Which I abstain to doe,

For by to morrow I may think so too.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun,

Why dost thou thus,

Through windows and through curtains, look on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Sawcy pedantic wretch, go, chide

Late school-boys, or sour 'prentices,

Go tell court-huntsmen, that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;

Love, all alike, no season, knows nor clime,

Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams, so reverend and strong,

Dost thou not think

I could eclipse, and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long?

If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left them, or lie here with me;
Ask for those kings, whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

She's all states, and all princes I,
Nothing else is.

Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
All honour 's mimic; all wealth alchymy;"
Thou Sun art half as happy' as we,

In that the world 's contracted thus.
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that 's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art every where ;
This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.

THE UNDERTAKING.

I HAVE done one braver thing,

Than all the worthies did;

And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid.

It were but madness now t' impart
The skill of specular stone,

When he, which can have learn'd the art
To cut it, can find none.

So, if I now should utter this,

Others (because no more

Such stuff, to work upon, there is) Would love but as before.

Be he, who loveliness within

Hath found, all outward loathes; For he, who colour loves and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes.

If, as I have, you also do

Virtue in woman see,

And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the he and she;

And if this love, though placed so, From profane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow, Or, if they do, deride:

Then you have done a braver thing,
Than all the worthies did,
And a braver thence will spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.

THE INDIFFERENT.

"I CAN love both fair and brown;

Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want [plays;

betrays;

Her who loves loneness best, and her who sports and
Her whom the country form'd, and whom the town;
Her who believes, and her who tries;

Her who still weeps with spungy eyes,
And her who is dry cork, and never cries;

I can love her, and her, and you, and you,

I can love any, so she be not true.

Will no other vice content you?

Will it not serve your turn to do, as did your mothers? Or have you all old vices worn, and now would find out others?

Or doth a fear, that men are true, torment you?
Oh, we are not, be not you so;

Let me; and do you twenty know.
Rob me, but bind me not, and let me go;
Must I, who came to travail thorough you,
Grow your fix'd subject, because you are true ?"

Venus heard me sing this song,

And by love's sweetest sweet, variety, she swore,
She heard not this till now; it should be so no more.
She went, examin'd, and return'd ere long,
And said, "Alas! some two or three
Poor heretics in love there be,

Which think to stablish dangerous constancy,
But I have told them, since you will be true,
You shall be true to them, who 're false to you."

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five grey hairs, or ruin'd fortunes flout;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his honour or his grace,

Or the king's real or his stampted face
Contemplate; what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.

Alas, alas! who 's injur'd by my love?

What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd?
Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats, which my reins fill,
Add one more to the plaguy bill?

Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Litigious men, whom quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.

Call's what you will, we are made such by love;
Call her one, me another fly;

W' are tapers too, and at our own cost die;
And we in us find th' eagle and the dove;
The phenix riddle hath more wit

By us, we two being one, are it:
So to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love.
And if unfit for tomb or hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
VOL V.

I AM two fools, I know,

For loving, and for saying so

In whining poetry;

But where 's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny?

Then as th' Earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,

I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to number cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so,

Some man, his art or voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain,
And, by delighting many, frees again
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
Grief, which verse did restrain.
But not of such as pleases, when 't is read,
Both are increased by such songs:
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three:
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

LOVER'S INFINITENESS.

If yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all,

I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move;
Nor can entreat one other tear to fall;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent;
Yet no more can be due to me,

Than at the bargain made was meant:
If then thy gift of love was partial,
That some for me, some should to others fall,,
Dear, I shall never have it all.

Or, if then thou giv'st me all,'

All was but all, which thou hadst then:

But if in thy heart since there be, or shall

New love created be by other men,

Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, in letters outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine, whatever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.

K/