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Add one more likeness (which I'm sure you | Then shall the world my noble ruin sea, can)

And let me and my sun beget a man!

Some pity and some envy me;
Then she herself, the mighty she,

Shall grace my funerals with this truth; ""Twas only love destroy'd the gentle youth!"


HERE, take my likeness with you, whilst 'tis so;
For, when from hence you go,
The next Sun's rising will behold
Me pale, and lean, and old:
The man who did this picture draw,
Will swear next day my face he never saw,
I really believe, within a while,

If you upon this shadow smile,
Your presence will such vigour give,
(Your presence, which makes all things

And absence so much alter me,
This will the substance, I the shadow, be.


WHAT mines of sulphur in my breast do lie
That feed th' eternal burnings of my heart!
Not Etna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcan's smoky art;
Vulcan his shop has placed there.
And Cupid's forge is set-up here.
Here all those arrows' mortal heads are made,
That fly so thick unseen through yielding air;
Are Jealousy, Fear, Sadness, and Despair,
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade,

Ah, cruel god! and why to me
Gave you this curs'd monopoly?

I have the trouble, not the gains, of it:

When from your well-wrought cabinet you take it, Give me but the disposal of one dart,

And your bright looks awake it,

Ah! be not frighted if you see
The new-soul'd picture gaze on thee,
And hear it breathe a sigh or two;
For those are the first things that it will do.
My rival-image will be then thought blest,
And laugh at me as dispossest;
But thou, who (if I know thee right)
I' th' substance dost not much delight,
Wilt rather send again for me,

Who then shall but my picture's picture be.


No; to what purpose should I speak?

No, wretched heart! swell till you break.
She cannot love me if she would;

And, to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.
No; to the grave thy sorrows bear;
As silent as they will be there:

Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound does give,
So handsomely the thing contrive,
That she may guiltless of it live;
So perish, that her killing thee
May a chance-medley, and no murder, be.

'Tis nobler much for me, that I
By her beauty, not her anger, die:
This will look justly, and become
An execution; that a martyrdom.

The censuring world will ne'er refrain
From judging men by thunder slain.
She must be angry, sure, if I should be
So bold to ask her to make me,
By being her's, happier than she!
I will not; 'tis a milder fate

To fall by her not loving, than her hate.
And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear;
When, sound in every other part,
Her sacrifice is found without an heart;
For the last tempest of my death
Shall sigh out that too with my breath.

And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in my heart
So sweet's revenge to me, that I
Upon my foe would gladly die.

Deep into her bosom would I strike the dart,
Deeper than woman e'er was struck by thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from
th' heart,

They flutter still about, inconstantly:

Curse on thy goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but woman-kind!

Vain god! who women dost thyself adore!
Their wounded hearts do still retain the powers
To travel and to wander, as before:

Thy broken arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So unjustly are distributed,
They take the feathers, we the head.


I'VE followed thee a year, at least,

And never stopp'd myself to rest;
But yet can thee o'ertake no more
Than this day can the day that went before.
In this our fortunes equal prove

To stars, which govern them above;
Our stars, that move for ever round,
With the same distance still betwixt them found

In vain, alas! in vain I strive
The wheel of Fate faster to drive;
Since, if around it swiftlier fly,

She in it mends her pace as much as I.

Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are, That there can never meet a pair! Tamelier than worms are lovers slain! The wounded heart ne'er turns to wound again,

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But you as easily might account,
Till to the top of numbers you amount,
As cast up my love's score.

Ten thousand millions was the sum;
Millions of endless millions are to come.
I'm sure her beauties cannot greater grow;
Why should my love do so?
A real cause at first did move;
But mine own fancy now drives on my love,
With shadows from itself that flow,
My love, as we in numbers see,
By cyphers is increas'd eternally.

So the new-made and untry'd spheres above
Took their first turn from th' hand of Jove;
But are, since that beginning, found
By their own forms to move for ever round.
All violent motions short do prove ;
But, by the length, 'tis plain to see
That love's a motion natural to me,


WITH much of pain, and all the art I knew,

Have I endeavour'd hitherto

To hide my love, and yet all will not do.

The world perceives it, and, it may be, she;
Though so discreet and good she be,
By hiding it, to teach that skill to me.

Men without love have oft so cunning grown,
That something like it they have shown;
But none who had it ever seem'd t'have none.
Love's of a strangely open, simple kind,
Can no arts or disguises find,

But thinks none sees it 'cause itself is blind.
The very eye betrays our inward smart:
Love of himself left there a part,
When through it he past into the heart.
Or if by chance the face betray not it,
But keep the secret wisely, yet,
Like drunkenness, into the tongue 'twill get.

THESE full two hours now have I gazing been,
What comfort by it can I gain?
To look on Heaven with mighty gulphs between
Was the great miser's greatest pain;
So near was he to Heaven's delight,
As with the blest converse he might,
Yet could not get one Urop of water by 't.
Ah wretch! I seem to touch her now; but, oh,
What boundless spaces do us part!
Fortune, and friends, and all Earth's empty show,
My lowness, and her high desert:
But these might conquerable prove;
Nothing does me so far remove,

As her hard soul's aversion from my love.
So travellers, that lose their way by night,
If from afar they chance t'espy
Th'uncertain glimmerings of a taper's light,

Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh;
Till, wearied with the fruitless pain,
They sit them down, and weep in vain,
And there in darkness and despair remain.

I WONDER What the grave and wise
Think of all us that love;
Whether our pretty fooleries

Their mirth or anger move:
They understand not breath that words does want
Our sighs to them are insignificant.


One of them saw me, th' other day,

Touch the dear hand which I admire
My soul was melting straight away,
And dropt before the fire:

This silly wise-man, who pretends to know,
Ask'd why I look'd so pale, and trembled so?
Another, from my mistress' door

Saw me with eyes all wat'ry come;
Nor could the hidden cause explore,

But thought some smoke was in the room
Such ignorance from unwounded learning came;
He knew tears made by smoke, but not by flame,
If learn'd in other things you be,
And have in love no skill,

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Go bid the stones a journey upwards make;

Go bid th'ambitious flame no more ascend:
And, when these false to their old motions prove,
Then shall I cease thee, thee alone, to love.
The fast-link'd chain of everlasting Fate

Does nothing tie more strong than me to you;
My fixt love hangs not on your love or hate,

But will be still the same, whate'er you do: You cannot kill my love with your disdain: Wound it you may, and make it live in pain, Me, mine example, let the Stoics use,

Their sad and cruel doctrine to maintain; Let all predestinators me produce,

Who struggle with eternal bonds in vain:
This fire I'm born to-but 'tis she must tell,
Whether 't be beams of Heaven or flames of Hell,
You, who men's fortunes in their faces read,

To find out mine, look not, alas! on me;
But mark her face, and all the features heed;
For only there is writ my destiny:
Or, if stars show it, gaze not on the skies
But study the astrology of her eyes,

If thou find there kind and propitious rays,

What Mars or Saturn threaten I'll not fear; I well believe the fate of mortal days

Is writ in Heaven; but oh, my heaven is there. What can men learn from stars they scarce can see?

Two great lights rule the world, and her two me.

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THOU 'adst to my soul no title or pretence;
I was mine own, and free,

Till I had given myself to thee;
But thou hast kept me slave and prisoner since.
Well, since so insolent thou'rt grown,
Fond tyrant! I'll depose thee from thy throne;
Such outrages must not admitted be

In an elective monarchy.

Part of my heart by gift did to thee fall;

My country, kindred, and my best Acquaintance, were to share the rest; But thou, their covetous neighbour, draw'st out all:

Nay more; thou mak'st me worship thee, And would'st the rule of my religion be: Did ever tyrant claim such power as you, To be both emperor and pope too? The public miseries, and my private fate,

Deserve some tears; but greedy thou (Insatiate maid!) wilt not allow That I one drop from thee should alienate: Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part, Though the sole cause of most of them thou art; Counting my tears thy tribute and thy due,

Since first mine eyes I gave to you.

Thou all my joys and all my hopes dost claim;
Thou ragest like a fire in me,
Converting all things into thee;
Nought can resist, or not increase the flame:
Nay, every grief and every fear
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear:
Thy presence, like the crowned basilisk's breath,
All other serpents puts to death.

As men in Hell are from diseases free,
So from all other ills am I ;
Free from their known formality:
But all pains eminently lie in thee!

Alas, alas! 1hope in vain

My conquer'd soul from out thine hands to gain; Since all the natives there thou 'ast overthrown, And planted garrisons of thine own.


THON worst estate ev'n of the sex that's worst ;
Therefore by Nature made at first
T'attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight outward curtain to the nuptial bed!
Thou case to buildings not yet finished!
Who, like the centre of the Earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though thou a point imaginary be!

A thing God thought for mankind so unfit,
That his first blessing ruin'd it.
Cold, frozen nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Afric's sand,
(A sterile, and a wild unlovely land!)

Art always scorch'd with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and serpents forth thyself to sting!
Thou that bewitchest men, whilst thou dost dwell
Like a close conjurer in his cell,

And fear'st the day's discovering eye! No wonder 'tis at all that thou should'st be Such tedious and unpleasant company,

Who liv'st so melancholily!

Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind,
Which women lose, and yet no man can find!
Although I think thou never found wilt be,

Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chymic his great secret miss,
(For neither it in art nor Nature is)

Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
Say what thou wilt, chastity is no more


Thee, than a porter is his door. In vain to honour they pretend, Who guard themselves with ramparts and with Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,

Who can an open breach defend. Of thy quick loss can be no doubt, Within so hated, and so lov'd without.


IMPOSSIBILITIES! oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home,
As easily other dangers were o'erthrown,
As Cæsar, after vanquish'd Rome,
His little Asian foes did overcome.
True lovers oft by Fortune are envied;
Oft Earth and Hell against them strive;
But Providence engages on their side,

And a good end at last does give :
At last, just men and lovers always thrive.
As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoin,
Change, as they please, the world's estate;

So thy heart in conjunction with mine
Shall our own fortunes regulate;
And to our stars themselves prescribe a fate.
"Twould grieve me much to find some bold ro

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Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends;
Through local banishment from thee; [ends,
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning
As easy shall my passage be,

As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea:
In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;
In vain the stars their aid deny'd ;

He saw the Sestian tower on th' other shore:
Shall th' Hellespont our loves divide?
No, not the Atlantic ocean's boundless tide.
Such seas betwixt us easily conquer'd are;
But, gentle maid! do not deny
To let thy beams shine on me from afar ;
And still the taper let me espy:
For, when thy light goes out, I sink and die.


Cuasz on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd,
And his great secret open laid!
For, of all persons, chiefly she
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow,
Only in her to pity me:

Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit,
Than 'tis for her to save and ransom it.
Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain

That in my breast does reign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal ;
The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal.

No, 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,

Though it should speechless lie.

A river, ere it meet the sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my love can his course,

Unless it join and mix with thee:

If any end or stop of it be found,

We know the flood runs still, though under ground.


UNHURT, untouch'd, did I complain,
And terrify'd all others with the pain:
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah! there's no fooling with the Devil!
So, wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real sprite.

I thought, I'll swear, an handsome lye

Had been no sin at all in poetry;

But now I suffer an arrest,
For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, sottish god of love! and can it be
Thou understand'st not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and fame, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verse should raised be
To this sad fame of prophesy :
Trath gives a dull propriety to my style,
And all the metaphors does spoil.

In things where fancy much does reign,
'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign;
The play at last a truth does grow,
And custom into Nature go:
By this curst art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting lame.
My lines of amorous desire

I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;
And 'twas a barbarous delight
My fancy promis'd from the sight:
But now, by love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.


I NEVER yet could see that face
Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifty's space,
They all victorious be.

Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one
For sure in me thy name is Legion.

Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face,
Goodness, or wit, in all I find;

In motion or in speech a grace;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind; And I'm so weak, the pistol need not be Double or treble charg'd to murder me. If tall, the name of Proper slays;

If fair, she 's pleasant as the light;
If low, her prettiness does please;

If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair'd, I love, lest it should be
Th' excuse to others for not loving me.
The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
The lean, with love makes me too so:
If straight, her body's Cupid's dart

To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow: Nay, age itself does me to rage incline, And strength to women gives, as well as wine. Just half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become; And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,

Though it take up a larger room:

Him, who loves always one, why should they call More constant than the man loves always all? Thus with unwearied wings. I flee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields!

Honey still spent this diligence still supplies,
Though I return not home with laden thighs.

My soul at first indeed did prove

Of pretty strength against a dart, Till I this habit got of love;

But my consum'd and wasted neart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Since that, by every spark is set on fire.


GREAT and wise conqueror, who, where'er Thou com'st, dost fortify, and settle thers!

Who canst defend as well as get, And never hadst one quarter beat-up yet; Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part With one inch of my vanquish'd heart; For, since thou took'st it by assault from me, 'Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughts of thee It fears no beauteous enemy.

Had thy charming strength been less, I'ad serv'd ere this an hundred mistresses: I'm better thus, nor would compound To leave my prison to be a vagabond; A prison in which I still would be, Though every door stood ope to me. In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride, All love is marriage on thy lover's side, For only death can them divide. Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind As that which spirits above to good does bind, Gentle and sweet Necessity, Which does not force, but guide, our liberty! Your love on me were spent in vain, Since my love still could but remain Just as it is; for what, alas! can be Added to that which hath infinity Both in extent and quality?


WITH more than Jewish reverence as yet

Do I the sacred name conceal;
When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit
This gentle mystery to reveal?

When will our love be nam'd, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness?
So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,
To wear that gem on any line;

Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen,
Shall any stanza with it shine.

Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be
Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.

Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Echo's burthen it shall be`;
Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,
And all the rivers murmur, thee;
Then every wind the sound shall upwards bear,
And softly whisper 't to some angel's ear.
Then shall thy name through all my verse be

Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,
And, when in future times they shall be read,

(As sure, I think, they will not die) If any critic doubt that they be mine, Men by that stamp shall quickly know the coin.

Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name
To represent thee by;

Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame
One that enough should signify:
Astrea or Cela as untit would prove
For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.


SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise Drops tears more fair than others' eyes!

Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see
Th' attire thy sorrow wears,

Nor know the beauty of thy tears;

For she 'll still come to dress herself in thee.
As stars reflect on waters, so I spy

In every drop, methinks, her eye.
The baby, which lives there, and always plays
In that illustrious sphere,

Like a Narcissus does appear, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, As this sun-shine and rain together. Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, (For some such fountain we must find, To waters of so fair a kind)

Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat

Which made this precious limbeck sweat! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail,

That she weeps tears so wondrous cold,
As scarce the ass's hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not hail?

DISCRETION. DISCREET! What means this word discreet? A curse on all discretion! This barbarous term you will not meet In all Love's lexicon. Jointure, portion, gold, estate,

Houses, household-stuff, or land, (The low conveniences of Fate)

Are Greek no lovers understand.
Believe me, beauteous one! when love
Enters into a breast.

The two first things it does remove
Are friends and interests.
Passion 's half blind, nor can endure
The careful, scrupulous eyes;
Or else I could not love, I'm sure,
One who in love were wise.
Men, in such tempests tost about,

Will, without grief or pain,
Cast all their goods and riches out,
Themselves their port to gain.

As well might martyrs, who do choose
That sacred death to take,
Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose,
When they 're bound naked to the stake.


Tuy Maid! ah! find some nobler theme
Whereon thy doubts to place;
Nor by a low suspect b'aspheme
The glories of thy face.
Alas! she makes thee shine so fair,
So exquisitely bright,

That her dim lamp must disappear

Before thy potent light.

Three hours each morn in dressing thee
Maliciously are spent;

And make that beauty tyranny,

That 's else a civil government,

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