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They, who one another keep
Alive, ne’er parted be.


Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school-boys, and 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 the 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; compared to this, All honour 's mimic, all wealth alchemy: 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 everywhere ; This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.


When my grave is broke up again, Some second guest to entertain, (For graves have learned that woman-head, To be to more than one a bed,) And he that digs it spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, Will he not let us alone, And think that there a loving couple lies, Who thought that this device might be some way To make their souls, at the last busy day, Meet at this grave, and make a little stay

If this fall in a time, or land,
Where mis-devotion doth command,
Then he, that digs us up, will bring
Us to the Bishop or the King,
To make us relics; then
Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I
A something else thereby ;
All women shall adore us, and some men;
And since at such times miracles are sought,
I would have that age by this paper taught
What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.

First we loved well and faithfully, Yet knew not what we loved, nor why; Difference of sex we never knew, No more than guardian angels do; Coming and going we Perchance might kiss, but yet between those meals Our hands ne'er touched the seals, Which Nature, injured by late law, set free: These miracles we did ; but now, alas ! All measure and all language I should pass, Should I tell what a miracle she was.


All kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun itself (which makes times, as these pass)

Is elder by a year now, than it was,

When thou and I first one another saw :
All other things to their destruction draw;
Only our love hath no decay:
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running, it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first-last-everlasting day.

Two graves must hide thine and my corse;

If one might, death were no divorce; -
Alas! as well as other princes, we,
(Who prince enough in one another be,)
Must leave at last in death these eyes, and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears.

But souls where nothing dwells but love,
(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
This, or a love increas&d, there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.

And then we shall be thoroughly blest:

But now no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we are kings, and none but we
Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be ;
Who is so safe as we, where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two .

True and false fears let us refrain ;
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write three score: this is the second of our reign.

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But when we have tried each other,
If she better like another,
Let her quickly change for me,
Then to change am I as free.
He or she that loves too long.
Sell their freedom for a song.


Fear not (dear love) that I’ll reveal
Those hours of pleasure we two steal :
No eye shall see, nor yet the sun
Descry, what thou and I have done;
No ear shall hear our love, but we
Silent, as the night will be:
The god of love himself (whose dart
Did first wound mine, and then thy heart.)
Shall never know that we can tell
What sweets in stolen embraces dwell.
This only means may find it out,
If when I die physicians doubt
What caused my death, and there to view
Of all their judgments which was true,
Rip up my heart, O then I fear

The world will see thy picture there.

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