A Lover's complaint
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From off a hill whose concave womb reworded |
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A plaintful
story from a sistering vale, |
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My spirits to
attend this double voice accorded, |
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And down I laid
to list the sad-tuned tale; |
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Ere long espied
a fickle maid full pale, |
5 |
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Tearing of
papers, breaking rings a-twain, |
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Storming her
world with sorrow's wind and rain.. |
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Upon her head a platted hive of straw, |
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Which fortified
her visage from the sun, |
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Whereon the
thought might think sometime it saw |
10 |
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Te carcass of a
beauty spent and done; |
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Time had not
scythed all that youth begun, |
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Nor youth all
quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, |
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Some beauty
peep'd through lattice of sear'd age. |
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Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, |
15 |
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Which on it had
conceited characters, |
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Laundering the
silken figures in the brine |
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That season'd
woe had pelleted in tears, |
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And often
reading what contents it bears; |
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As often
shrieking undistinguish'd woe, |
20 |
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In clamours of
all size, both high and low. |
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Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage
ride |
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As they did
battery to the spheres intend; |
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Sometime
diverted their poor balls are tied |
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To the orbed
earth; sometimes they do extend |
25 |
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Their view right
on; anon their gazes lend |
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To every place
at once, and nowhere fix'd |
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The mind and
sight distractedly commix'd. |
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Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, |
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Proclaim'd in
her a careless hand of pride; |
30 |
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For some,
untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat, |
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Hanging her pale
and pined cheek beside |
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Some in her
threaden fillet still did bide, |
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And, true to
bondage, would not break from thence, |
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Though slackly
braided in loose negligence. |
35 |
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A thousand favours from a maund she drew |
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Of amber,
crystal, and of beaded jet, |
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Which one by one
she in a river threw, |
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Upon whose
weeping margent she was set; |
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Like usury,
applying wet to wet, |
40 |
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Or monarch's
hands that lets not bounty fall |
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Where want cries
some, but where excess begs all. |
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Of folded schedules had she many a once, |
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Which she
perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood, |
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Crack'd many a
ring of posied gold and bone, |
45 |
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Bidding them
find their sepulchres in mud; |
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Found yet moe
letters sadly penn'd in blood, |
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With sleided
silk feat and affectedly |
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Enswathed, and
seal'd to curious secrecy. |
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These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes |
50 |
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And often
kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear; |
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Cried: «O
false blood, thou register of lies, |
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What unapproved
witness dost thou bear! |
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Ink would have
seem'd more black and damned here!» |
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This said, in
top of rage the lines she rents, |
55 |
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Big discontent
so breaking their contents. |
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A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh- |
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Sometime a
blustered, that the ruffle knew |
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Of court, of
city, and had let go by |
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The swiftest
hours, observed as they flew- |
60 |
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Towards this
afflicted fancy fastly drew; |
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And, privileged
by age, desires to know |
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In brief the
grounds and motives of her woe. |
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So slides he down upon his grained bat, |
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And
comely-distant sits he by her side; |
65 |
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When he again
desires her, being sat, |
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Her grievance
with his hearing to divide: |
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If that from him
there may be aught applied |
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Which may her
suffering ecstasy assuage, |
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Tis promised in
the charity of age. |
70 |
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Father, she says, though in me you behold |
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The injury of
many a blasting hour, |
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Let it not tell
your judgement I am old; |
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Not age, but
sorrow, over me hath power: |
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I might as yet
have been a spreading flower, |
75 |
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Fresh to myself,
if I had self-applied |
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Love to myself,
and to no love beside. |
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But, woe is me! too early I attended |
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A youthful suit
it was to gain my grace- |
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Of one by
nature's outwards so commended, |
80 |
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That maidens'
eyes stuck over all his face: |
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Love lack'd a
dwelling and made him her place; |
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And when in his
fair parts she did abide, |
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She was new
lodged and newly deified. |
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His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; |
85 |
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And every light
occasion of the wind |
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Upon his lips
their silken parcels hurls. |
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What's sweet to
do, to do will aptly find: |
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Each eye that
saw him did enchant the mind; |
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For on his
visage was in little drawn |
90 |
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What largeness
thinks in Paradise was sawn. |
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Small show of man was yet upon his chin; |
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His phoenix down
began but to appear, |
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Like unshorn
velvet, on that termless skin, |
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Whose bare
out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear |
95 |
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Yet show'd his
visage by that cost more dear; |
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And nice
affections wavering stood in doubt |
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If best were as
it was, or best without. |
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His qualities were beauteous as his form, |
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For
maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; |
100 |
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Yet, if men
moved him, was he such a storm |
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As oft 'twixt
May and April is to see, |
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When winds
breathe sweet, unruly though they be. |
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His rudeness so
with his authorized youth |
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Did livery
falseness in a pride of truth. |
105 |
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Well could he ride, and often men would say, |
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That horse his
mettle from his rider takes: |
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Proud of
subjection, noble by the sway, |
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What rounds,
what bounds, what course, what stop he makes! |
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And controversy
hence a question takes, |
110 |
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Whether the
horse by him became his deed, |
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Or he his manage
by the well-doing steed. |
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But quickly on this side the verdict went: |
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His real
habitude gave life and grace |
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To appertainings
and to ornament, |
115 |
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Accomplish'd in
himself, not in his case; |
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All aids,
themselves made fairer by their place, |
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Came for
additions; yet their purposed trim |
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Pierced not his
grace, but were all graced by him. |
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So on the tip oh his subduing tongue |
120 |
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All kinds of
arguments and question deep, |
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All replication
prompt and reason strong, |
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For his
advantage still did wake and sleep: |
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To make the
weeper laugh, the laugher weep, |
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He had thad
dialect and different skill, |
125 |
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Catching all
passions in his craft of will; |
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That he did in the general bosom reign |
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Of young, of
old, and sexes both enchanted, |
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To dwell with
him in thoughts, or to remain |
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In personal
duty, following where he haunted: |
130 |
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Consents
bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted, |
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And dialogued
for him what he would say, |
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Ask'd their own
wills and made their wills obey. |
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Many there were that did his picture get, |
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To serve their
eyes, and in it put their mind; |
135 |
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Like fools that
in the imagination set |
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The goodly
objects which abroad they find |
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Of lands and
mansions, theirs in thought assign'd: |
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And labouring in
moe pleasures to bestow them |
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Than the true
gouty landlord which doth owe them: |
140 |
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So many have, that never touch'd his hand, |
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Sweetly supposed
them mistress of his heart. |
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My woeful self,
that did in freedom stand, |
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And was my own
fee-simple, not in part, |
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What with his
art in youth and youth in art, |
145 |
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Threw my
affections in his charmed power, |
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Reserved the
stalk and gave him all my flower. |
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Yet did I not, as some my equals did, |
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Demand of him,
nor being desired yielded; |
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Finding myself
in honour so forbid, |
150 |
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With safest
distance I mine honour shielded; |
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Experience for
me many bulwarks builded |
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Of proofs
new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil |
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Of this false
jewel, and this amorous spoil. |
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But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent |
155 |
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The destined ill
she must herself assay? |
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Or forced
examples, 'gainst her own content, |
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To put the
by-past perils in her way? |
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Counsel may stop
awhile what will not stay; |
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For when we
rage, advice is often seen |
160 |
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By blunting us
to make our wits more keen. |
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Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, |
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That we must
curb it upon others' proof; |
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To be forbod the
sweets that seem so good, |
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For fear of
harms that preach in our behoof. |
165 |
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O appetite, from
judgement stand aloof! |
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The one a palate
hath that needs will taste, |
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Though Reason
weep, and cry «It is thy last» |
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For further I could say «This man's
untrue», |
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And knew the
patterns of his foul beguiling; |
170 |
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Heard where his
plants in others' orchands grew, |
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Saw how deceits
were gilded in his smiling; |
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Knew vows were
ever brokers to defiling; |
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Thought
characters and words merely but art, |
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And bastards of
his foul adulterate heart. |
175 |
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A long upon these terms I held my city, |
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Till thus he
'gan besiege me: Gentle maid, |
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Have of my
suffering youth some feeling pity, |
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And be not of my
holy vows afraid: |
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That's to ye
sworn to none was ever said; |
180 |
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For feass of
love I have been call'd unto, |
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Till now did
ne'er invite, nor never woo. |
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All my offences that abroad you see |
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Are errors of
the blood, none of the mind; |
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Love made them
not; with acture they may be, |
185 |
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Where neither
party is nor true nor kind: |
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They sought
their shame that so their shame did find; |
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And so much less
of shame in me remains |
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By how much of
me their reproach contains. |
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Among the many that mine eyes have seen, |
190 |
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Not one whose
flame my heart so much as warmed, |
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Or my affection
put to she smallest teen, |
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Or any of my
leisures ever charmed: |
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Harm have I done
to them, but ne'er was harmed; |
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Kept hearts in
liveries, but mine own was free, |
195 |
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And reign'd,
commanding in his monarchy. |
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Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent
me |
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Of paled pearls
and rubies red as blood; |
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Figuring that
they their passions likewise lent me |
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Of grief and
blushes, aptly understood |
200 |
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In bloodless
white and the encrimson'd modd; |
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Effects of
terror and dear modesty, |
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Encamp'd in
hearts, but fighting outwardly. |
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And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, |
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With twisted
metal amorously impleach'd, |
205 |
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I have received
from many a several fair, |
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Their kind
acceptance weepingly beseech'd, |
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With the
annexions of fair gems enrich'd, |
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And deep-brain'd
sonnets that did amplify |
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Each stone's
dear nature, worth and quality. |
210 |
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The diamond, why, 'twas beautiful and hard, |
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Whereto his
invised properties did tend; |
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The deep-green
emerald, in whose fresh regard |
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Weak sights
their sickly radiance do amend; |
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The heaven-hued
sapphire and the opal blend |
215 |
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With objects
manifold; each several stone, |
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With wit well
blazon'd, smiled or made some moan. |
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Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, |
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Of pensived and
subdues desires the tender, |
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Nature hath
charged me that I hoard them not, |
220 |
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But yield them
up where I myself must render, |
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That is, to you,
my origin and ender; |
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For these, of
force, must your oblations be, |
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Since I their
altar, you enpatron me. |
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O, then, advance of yours that phraseless
hand, |
225 |
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Whose white
weighs down the airy scale of praise; |
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Take all these
similes to your own command, |
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Hallow'd with
sight that burning lungs did raise; |
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What me your
minister or you obeys, |
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Works under you;
and to your audit comes |
230 |
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Their distract
parcels in combined sums. |
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Lo, this device was sent me from a nun, |
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Or sister
sanctified, of holiest note; |
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Which late her
noble suit in court did shun, |
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Whose rarest
havings made the blossoms dote; |
235 |
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For she was
sought by spirits of richest coat, |
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But kept cold
distance, and did thence remove, |
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To spend her
living in eternal love. |
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But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave |
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The thing we
have not, mastering what not strives, |
240 |
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Playing the
place which did no form receive, |
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Playing patient
sports in unconstrained gives? |
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She that her
fame so to herself contrives, |
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The scars of
battle 'scapech by the fight, |
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And makes her
absence valiant, not her might. |
245 |
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O, pardon me, in that my boast is true: |
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The accident
which brought me to her eye |
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Upon he moment
did her force subdue, |
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And now she
would the caged cloister fly; |
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Religious love
put out Religion's eye; |
250 |
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Not to be
tempted, would she be immured, |
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And, now, to
tempt all, liberty procured. |
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How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell! |
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The broken
bosoms that to me belong |
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Have emptied all
their fountains in my well, |
255 |
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And mine I pour
your ocean all among: |
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I strong o'er
them, and you o'er me being strong, |
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Must for your
victory us all congest, |
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As compound love
to physic your cold breast. |
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My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, |
260 |
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Who disciplined,
ay, dieted in grace, |
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Believed her
eyes when they to assail begun, |
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All vows and
consecrations giving place: |
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O most potential
love! vow, bond, nor space, |
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In thee hath
neither sting, knot, nor confine, |
265 |
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For thou art
all, and all things else are thine. |
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When thou impressest, what are precepts worth |
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Of stale
example? When thou wilt inflame, |
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How boldly those
impediments stand forth |
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Of wealth, of
filial fear, law, kindred, fame! |
270 |
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Love's arms are
peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame; |
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And sweetens, in
the suffering pangs it bears, |
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The aloes of all
forces, shocks and fears. |
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Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, |
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Feeling it
break, with bleeding groans they pine; |
275 |
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And supplicant
their sight to you extend, |
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To leave the
battery that you make 'gainst mine, |
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Lending soft
audience to my sweet desing, |
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And credent soul
to that strong-bonded oath |
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That shall
prefer and undertake my troth. |
280 |
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This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, |
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Whose sights
till then were levell'd on my face; |
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Each cheek a
river running from a fount |
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With brinish
current downward flow'd apace; |
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O, how the
channel to the stream gave grace! |
285 |
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Who glazed with
crystal gate the glowing roses |
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That flame
through water which their hue encloses |
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O, father, what a hell of witchcraft lies |
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In the small orb
of one particular tear! |
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But with the
inundation of the eyes |
290 |
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What rocky heart
to water will not wear? |
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What breast so
cold that is not warmed here? |
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O cleft effect!
cold modesty, hot wrath, |
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Both fire from
hence and chill extincture hath. |
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For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft, |
295 |
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Even there
resolved my reason into tears; |
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There my white
stole of chastity I daff'd, |
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Shook off my
sober guards and civil fears; |
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Appear to him,
as to me appears, |
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All melting;
though our drops this difference bore, |
300 |
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His poison'd me,
and mine did him restore. |
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In him a plenitude of subtle matter, |
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Applied to
cautels, all strange forms receives, |
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Of burning
blushes, or of weeping water, |
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Or swounding
paleness; and he takes and leaves, |
305 |
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In either's
aptness, as it best deceives, |
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To blush at
speeches rank, to weep at woes, |
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Or to turn white
and swound at tragic shows: |
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That not a heart which in his level came |
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Could 'scape the
hail of his all-hurting aim, |
310 |
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Showing fair
nature is both kind and tame; |
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And, veil'd in
them, did win whom he would maim: |
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Against the
thing he sought he would exclaim; |
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When he most
burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury, |
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He preach'd pure
maid and praised cold chastity. |
315 |
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Thus merely with the garment of a Grace |
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The naked and
concealed fiend he cover'd; |
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That the
unexperient gave the tempter place, |
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Which, like a
cherubin, above them hover'd. |
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Who, young a
simple, would not be so lover'd? |
320 |
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Ay me! I fell,
and yet do question make |
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What I should do
again for such a sake. |
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O, that infected moisture of his eyes, |
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O, that false
fire which in his cheek so glow'd, |
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O, that forced
thunder from his heart did fly, |
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O, that sad
breath his spongy lungs bestow'd, |
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O, all that
borrow'd motion seeming owed, |
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Would yet again
betray the fore-betray'd, |
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And new pervert
a reconciled maid! |
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