SHAKE-SPEARES

He lends thee vertue, and he stole that word,
From thy behauiour, beautie doth he giue
And found it in thy cheeke: he can affoord
No praisè to thee, but what in thee doth liue.
Then thanke him not for that which he doth say,
Since what he owes thee, thou thy selfe doost pay,

O How I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth vse your name,
And in the praisè thereof spends all his might,
To make me toung-tide speaking of your fame,
But since your worth (wide as the Ocean is)
The humble as the proudest faile doth beare,
My fawſie barke (inferior farre to his)
On your broad maine doth wilfully appear.
Your ſhalloweſt helpe will hold me vp a floate,
Whilſt he vpon your ſoundleſſe deepe doth ride,
Or (being wrackt) I am a worthleſſe bote,
He of tall building, and of goodly pride.
Then If he thriue and I be caſt away,
The worſt was this, my loue was my decay.

OR I ſhall liue your Epitaph to make,
Or you ſuruiue when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be ſorgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life ſhall haue,
Though I (once gone) to all the world muſt dye,
The earth can yeeld me but a common graue,
When you intombed in mens eyes ſhall lye,
Your monument ſhall be my gentle verſe,
Which eyes not yet created ſhall ore-read,
And toungs to be, your beeing ſhall rehearſe,
When all the breathers of this world are dead,
You ſtill ſhall liue (ſuch vertue hath my Pen)
Where breath moſt breaths, euen in the mouths of men.

I grant

SONNETS.

I Grant thou wert not married to my Mufe,
And therefore maiſt without attaint ore-looke
The dedicated words which writers vfe
Of their faire ſubieſt, bleſſing every booke.
Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew,
Finding thy worth a limmit paſt my praisè,
And therefore art inſore'd to ſeeke anew,
Some fresher ſtampe of the time bettering dayes.
And do ſo loue, yet when they haue deuide,
What ſtrained touches Rhethorick can lend,
Thou truly faire, wert truly ſimpathizde,
In true plaine words, by thy true telling friend.
And their groſſe painting might be better vſ'd,
Where cheekes need blood, in thee it is abuſ'd.

I Neuer ſaw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your faire no painting ſet,
I found (or thought I found) you did exceed,
The battren tender of a Poets debt:
And therefore haue I ſlept in your report,
That you your ſelſe being extant well might ſhow,
How farre a moderne quill doth come to ſhort,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow,
This ſilence for my finne you did impute,
Which ſhall be moſt my glory being dombe,
For I impaire not beautie being mute,
When others would giue life, and bring a tombe.
There liues more life in one of your faire eyes,
Then both your Poets can in praisè deuife.

WHo is it that ſayes moſt, which can ſay more,
Then this rich praisè, that you alone, are you,
In whose confine immured is the ſtore,
Which ſhould example where your equall grew,
Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell,

F 2

That

SHAKE-SPEARES

That to his subieſt lends not ſome ſmall glory,
But he that writes of you, if he can tell,
That you are you, ſo dignifies his ſtory.
Let him but coppy what in you is writ,
Not making worſe what nature made ſo cleere,
And ſuch a counter-part ſhall fame his wit,
Making his ſtyle admired euery where,
You to your beauteous bleſſings adde a curſe,
Being ſond on praeſe, which makes your praeſes worſe.

85

M
Y toung-tide Mufe in manners holds her ſtill,
While comments of your praeſe richly compil'd,
Reſerue their Charaſter with goulden quill,
And precious phraſe by all the Mufes ſil'd,
I thinke good thoughts, whilſt other write good wordes,
And like vnlettered clarke ſtill crie Amen,
To euery Himne that able ſpirit affords,
In poliſht for me of well reſined pen,
Hearing you praiſ'd, I ſay'tis ſo, 'tis true,
And to the moſt of praeſe adde ſome-thing more,
But that is in my thought, whoſe loue to you
(Though words come hind-moſt ) holds his ranke before,
Then others, for the breath of words reſpect,
Me for my dombe thoughts, ſpeaking in effect.

86

VV
As it the proud full ſaile of his great verſe,
Bound for the prize of (all to precious) you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearce,
Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew?
Was it his ſpirit, by ſpirits taught to write,
Aboue a mortall pitch, that ſtruck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compiers by night
Giuing him ayde, my verſe aftonifhed.
He nor that affable familiar ghoff
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my ſilence cannot boaſt,

I was

SONNETS.

I was not ſick of any ſeare from thence,
But when your countinance ſild vp his line,
Then lackt I matter, that inſeebled mine.

87

FArewell thou art too deare for my poſſeſſing,
And like enough thou knowſt thy eſtimate,
The Cha ter of thy worth giues thee releaſing:
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
And for that ritches where is my defering?
The cauſe of this faire guiſt in me is wanting,
And ſo my pattent back againe is ſweruing.
Thy ſelfe thou gauſt, thy owne worth then not knowing,
Or mee to whom thou gauſt it, else miſtaking,
So thy great guiſt vpon miſprifion growing,
Comes home againe, on better iudgement making.
Thus haue I had thee as a dreame, doth flatter,
In ſleepe a King, but waking no ſuch matter.

88

VV
Hen thou ſhalt be diſpode to ſet me light,
And place my merrit in the eie of skorne,
Vpon thy ſide, againit my ſelfe ile fight,
And proue thee virtuous, though thou art forſworne:
With mine owne weakeneſſe being beſt acquainted,
Vpon thy part I can ſet downe a ſtory
Of ſaults conceald, wherein I am attained:
That thou in looſing me, ſhall win much glory:
And I by this wil be a gainer too,
For bending all my louing thoughts on thee,
The iniuries that to my ſelfe I doe,
Doing thee vantage, duble vantage me.
Such is my loue, to thee I ſo belong,
That for thy right, my ſelfe will beare all wrong.

89

SAY that thou didſt forſake mee for ſome ſalt,
And I will comment vpon that offence,

F3

The

SHARE-SPEAKES

Speake of my lameneſſe, and I ſtraight will haſt:
Againſt thy reaſons making no defence.

Thou canſt not (loue) diſgrace me halſe ſo ill,
To ſet a forme vpon deſired change,

As ile my ſelfe diſgrace, knowing thy wil,

I will acquaintance ſtrangle and looke ſtrange:

Be abſent from thy walkes and in my tongue,

Thy ſweet beloved name no more ſhall dwell,

Leaſt I (too much proſace) ſhould do it wronge:

And haplie of our old acquaintance tell.

For thee, againſt my ſelfe ile vow debate,

For I muſt nere loue him whom thou doſt hate.

90

T
hen hate me when thou wilt, if euer, now,
Now while the world is bent my deeds to croſſe,
Ioyne with the ſpight of fortune, make me bow,

And doe not drop in for an after loffe.

Ah doe not, when my heart hath ſcapte this ſorrow,

Come in the rereward of a conguerd woe,

Gieue not a windy night a rainie morrow,

To linger out a purpofd ouer-throw.

If thou wilt leaue me, do not leaue me laſt,

When other pettie griefes haue done their ſpight,

But in the onſet come, ſo ſtall I taſte

At first the very worſt of fortunes might.

And other ſtraines of woe, which now ſeeme woe,

Compar'd with loffe of thee, will not ſeeme ſo.

91

S
ome glory in their birth, ſome in their skill,
Some in their wealth, ſome in their bodies force,
Some in their garments though new-fangled ill:

Some in their Hawkes and Hounds, ſome in their Horſe.

And euery humor hath his adiunſt pleaſure,

Wherein it findes a ioy aboue the reſt,

But theſe perticlers are not my meaſure,

All theſe I better in one generall beſt.

Thy

SONNETS.

Thy loue is bitter then high birth to me,
Richer then wealth, prouder then garments coſt,
Of more delight then Hawkes or Horſes bee:

And hauing ſnee, of all mens pride I boaſt.

Wretched in this alone, that thou maſt take,
All this away, and me moſt wretched make.

92

BVt doe thy worſt to ſteale thy ſelfe away,
For tearme of life thou art affuſed mine,

And life no longer then thy loue will ſtay.

For it depends vpon that loue of thine.

Then need I not to feare the worſt of wrongs,

When in the leaſt of them my life hath end,

I ſee, a better ſtace to me belongs.

Then that, which on thy humor doth depend.

Thou canſt not vex me with inconstant minde,

Since that my life on thy reuolt doth lie,

Oh what a happy title do I finde,

Happy to haue thy loue, happy to die!

But what's ſo bleſſed faire that ſeares no blot,

Thou maſt be ſalce, and yet I know it not.

93

S
o ſhall I liue, ſuppoſing thou art true,
Like a deceiued husband, ſo loues face,
May ſtill ſeeme loue to me, though alter'd new:

Thy lookes with me, thy heart in other place.

For their can liue no hatred in thine eye,

Therefore in that I cannot know thy change,

In manie lookes, the ſalce hearts hiftory

Is writ in moods and ſrounes and wrinkles ſtrange,

But heauen in thy creation did decree,

That in thy face ſweet loue ſhould euer dwell,

What ere thy thoughts, or thy hearts workings be,

Thy lookes ſhould nothing thence, but ſweetneſſe tell.

How like *Eaues* apple doth thy beauty grow,

If thy ſweet vertue anſwere not thy ſhow.

94

SHAKE-SPEARES

94
T
Hey that haue powre to hurt,and will doe none,
That doe not do the thing,they moft do showe,
Who mouing others,are themselues as stone,
Vnmooued,could,and to temptation flow:
They rightly do inherit heauens graces,
And husband natures ritches from expence,
They are the Lords and owners of their faces,
Others,but stewards of their excellence:
The sommers flowre is to the sommer sweet,
Though to it selfe,it onely liue and die,
But if that flowre with bafe infection meete,
The bafeft weed out-braues his dignity:
For sweeteft things turne lowreft by their deedes,
Lillies that fester, ſmell far worse then weeds.

95
H
Ow sweet and louely doſt thou make the ſhame,
Which like a canker in the fragrant Rofe,
Doth ſpot the beautit of thy budding name?
Oh in what ſweets doſt thou thy finnes incloſe!
That tongue that tells the ſtory of thy daies,
(Making laſciuious comments on thy ſport)
Cannot diſpraife, but in a kinde of praisc,
Naming thy name, bleſſes an ill report.
Oh what a manſion haue those vices got,
Which for their habitation choſe out thee,
Where beauties vaille doth couer euery blot,
And all things turnes to faire, that eies can ſee!
Take heed(deare heart) of this large priuledge,
The hardeſt knife ill vſ'd doth looke his edge.

96
S
Ome ſay thy fault is youth, some wanton eſſe,
Some ſay thy grace is youth and gentle ſport,
Both grace and faults are lou'd of more and leſſe:
Thou makſt faults graces, that to thee reſort:
As on the finger of a throned Queene,

The

SONNETS.

The bafeſt Iewell wil be well eſteem'd:
So are those errors that in thee are ſeele,
To truths tranſlated, and for true things deem'd.
How many Lambs might the ſterne Wolfe betray,
If like a Lambe he could his lookes tranſlate,
How many gazers might thou lead away,
If thou wouldſt vſe the ſtrength of all thy ſtate?
But doe not ſo, I loue thee in ſuch ſort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

97
H
Ow like a Winter hath my abſence beene
From thee, the pleafure of the fleeting yeare?
What freezings haue I felt, what darke daies ſeele?
What old Decembers bareneſſe euery where?
And yet this time remou'd was sommers time,
The teeming Autumne big with ritch increaſe,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widdowed wombes after their Lords deceaſe:
Yet this abundant ilſue ſeem'd to me,
But hope of Orphans, and vn-fathered ſruite,
For Sommer and his pleaſures waite on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute.
Or if they ſing, tis with ſo dull a cheere,
That leaues looke pale, dreading the Winters neere.

98
F
Rom you haue I beene abſent in the ſpring,
When proud pide Aprill (dreſt in all his trim)
Hath put a ſpirit of youth in euery thing:
That heauie Saturne lauught and leapt with him,
Yet nor the laies of birds, nor the sweet ſmell
Of different flowers in odor and in hew,
Could make me any ſummers ſtory tell:
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the Lillies white,
Nor praisc the deepe vermillion in the Rofe,
They weare but sweet, but figures of delight:

G

Drawne

SHAKESPEARES.

Drawne after you, you patterne of all thofe.
Yet seem'd it Winter still, and you away,
As with your fhaddow I with theſe did play.

99
T He forward violet thus did I chide,
Sweet theſe whence didſt thou ſteale thy ſweet that
If not from my loues breath, the purple pride,
Which on thy ſoft cheeke for complexion dwells?
In my loues veines thou haſt too groſely died,
The Lillie I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marierom had ſtolne thy haire,
The Roſes fearefully on thornes did ſtand,
Our bluſhing ſhame, an other white diſpaireſ:
A third nor red, nor white, had ſtolne of both,
And to his robbry had annext thy breath,
But for his theft in pride of all his growth
A vengſull canker eate him vp to death,
More flowers I noted, yet I none could ſee,
But ſweet, or culler it had ſtolne from thee,

100
WV Here art thou Mufe that thou forgetſt ſo long,
To ſpeake of that which giues thee all thy might?
Spendſt thou thy furie on ſome worthleſſe ſonge,
Darkning thy powre to lend bafe ſubieſts light,
Returne forgetſull Mufe, and ſtraight redeeme,
In gentle numbers time ſo idely ſpent,
Sing to the care that doth thy laies eſteeme,
And giues thy pen both skill and argument.
Rife reſtly Mufe, my loues ſweet face ſuruay,
If time haue any wrinle grauen there,
If any, be a ſatire to decay,
And make times spoiles diſpised euery where.
Gie my loue fame falter then time waſts life,
So thou preuenſt his ſieth, and crooked knife,

101
O H truant Mufe what ſhalbe thy amends,

For

SONNETS.

Por thy neglect of truth in beauty di'd?
Both truth and beauty on my loue depends:
So doſt thou too, and therein digniſd:
Make anſwere Mufe, wilt thou not haply ſaie,
Truth needs no collour with his collour fixt,
Beautie no penſell, beauties truth to lay:
But beſt is beſt, if neuer intermixt,
Because he needs no praeſe, wilt thou be dumb?
Excufe not ſilence ſo, for't lies in thee,
To make him much out-liee a gilded tombe:
And to be praiſd of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office Mufe, I teach thee how,
To make him ſee me long hence, as he ſhowes now.

102
M Y loue is ſtrengthened though more weake in ſee-
I loue not leſſe, though leſſe the ſhow appeare, (ming
That loue is marchandiz'd, whoſe ritch eſteeming,
The owners tongue doth publifh euery where.
Our loue was new, and then but in the ſpring,
When I was wont to greet it with my laies,
As Philomell in ſummers front doth ſinge,
And ſtops his pipe in growth of riper daies:
Not that the ſummer is leſſe pleafant now
Then when her mournefull himns did huff the night,
But that wild muſick burthens euery bow,
And ſweets growne common loose their deare delight.
Therefore like her, I ſome-time hold my tongue:
Because I would not dull you with my ſonge.

103
A Lack what povertey my Mufe brings forth,
That hauing ſuch a skope to ſhow her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Then when it hath my added praeſe beſide.
Oh blame me not if I no more can write!
Looke in your glaſſe and there appeares a face,
That ouer-goes my blunt inuention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me diſgrace.

G 2

Were