- XLI
- Love's Lunacy
- Why do I speak of joy, or write of love,
- When my heart is the very den of horror,
- And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove,
- With all his torments and infernal terror?
- What should I say? What yet remains to do?
- My brain is dry with weeping all too long,
- My sighs be spent in uttering my woe,
- And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong;
- But, still distracted in Love's lunacy,
- And, bedlam-like, thus raging in my grief,
- Now rail upon her hair, then on her eye,
- Now call her Goddess, then I call her thief,
- Now I deny her, then I do confess her,
- Now do I curse her, then again I bless her.
- XLII
- Some men there be which like my method well
- And much commend the strangeness of my vein;
- Some say I have a passing pleasing strain;
- Some say that im my humor I excel;
- Some, who not kindly relish my conceit,
- They say, as poets do, I use to feign,
- And in bare words paint out my passion's pain.
- Thus sundry men their sundry words repeat;
- I pass not, I, how men affected be,
- Nor who commends or discommends my verse;
- It pleaseth me, if I my woes rehearse,
- And in my lines if she my love may see.
- Only my comfort still consists in this,
- Writing her praise I cannot write amiss.
- XLIII
- Why should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace
- Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit,
- Whilst I in darkness, in the self-same place,
- Get not one glance to recompense my merit?
- So doth the plowman gaze the wand'ring star,
- And only rest contented with the light,
- That never learn'd what constellations are
- Beyond the bent of his unknowing sight.
- O why should Beauty, custom to obey,
- To their gross sense apply herself so ill?
- Would God I were as ignorant as they,
- When I am made unhappy by my skill,
- Only compell'd on this poor good to boast:
- Heav'ns are not kind to them that know them most.
- XLIV
- Whilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee,
- Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face,
- Where in the map of all my misery
- Is modell'd out the world of my disgrace.
- Whilst, in despite of tyrannizing times,
- Medea-like, I make thee young again,
- Proudly thou scorn'st my world-outwearing rhymes
- And murtherest virtue with thy coy disdain.
- And though in youth my youth untimely perish,
- To keep thee from oblivion and the grave
- Ensuing ages yet my rhymes shall cherish,
- When I entomb'd, my better part shall save;
- And though this earthly body fade and die,
- My name shall mount upon eternity.
- XLV
- Muses, which sadly sit about my chair,
- Drown'd in the tears extorted by my lines,
- With heavy sighs whilst thus I break the air,
- Painting my passions in these sad designs,
- Since she disdains to bless my happy verse,
- The strong-built trophies to her living fame,
- Ever henceforth my bosom be your hearse,
- Wherein the world shall now entomb her name.
- Enclose my music, you poor senseless walls,
- Since she is deaf and will not hear my moans,
- Soften yourselves with every tear that falls,
- Whilst I, like Orpheus, sing to trees and stones,
- Which with my plaint seem yet with pity mov'd,
- Kinder than she whom I so long have lov'd.
- XLVI
- Plain-path'd Experience, th'unlearned's guide,
- Her simple followers evidently shows
- Sometimes what Schoolmen scarcely can decide,
- Nor yet wise Reason absolutely knows.
- In making trial of a murther wrought,
- If the vile actors of the heinous deed
- Near the dead body happily be brought,
- Oft it hath been prov'd the breathless corse* will bleed. [corpse]
- She's coming near, that my poor heart hath slain,
- Long since departed, to the world no more,
- The ancient wounds no longer can contain,
- But fall to bleeding as they did before.
- But what of this? Should she to death be led,
- It furthers justice, but helps not the dead.
- XLVII
- In pride of wit when high desire of fame
- Gave life and courage to my laboring pen,
- And first the sound and virtue of my name
- Won grace and credit in the ears of men,
- With those the thronged theatres that press
- I in the circuit for the laurel strove,
- Where the full praise, I freely must confess,
- In heat of blood a modest mind might move,
- With shouts and claps at every little pause
- When the proud round on every side hath rung,
- Sadly I sit, unmov'd with the applause,
- As though to me it nothing did belong.
- No public glory vainly I pursue;
- All that I seek is to eternize you.
- XLVIII
- Cupid, I hate thee, which I'd have thee know;
- A naked starveling ever may'st thou be.
- Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow
- For some few rags wherewith to cover thee.
- Or, if thou'lt not, thy archery forbear,
- To some base rustic do thyself prefer,
- And when corn's sown or grown into the ear,
- Practise thy quiver and turn crow-keeper*. [scarecrow]
- Or, being blind, as fittest for the trade,
- Go hire thyself some bungling harper's boy;
- They that are blind are often minstrels made;
- So may'st thou live, to thy fair mother's joy,
- That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old way,
- Thou, her blind son, may'st sit by them and play.
- XLIX
- Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,
- And say'st my lines be dull and do not move,
- I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight,
- Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love.
- But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv'd,
- Whose stomach unto gall hath turn'd thy food,
- Whose senses, like poor prisoners, hunger-starv'd,
- Whose grief hath parch'd thy body, dried thy blood,
- Thou which hast scorned life and hated death,
- And in a moment mad, sober, glad, and sorry,
- Thou which hast bann'd thy thoughts and curs'd thy breath
- With thousand plagues, more than in Purgatory,
- Thou thus whose spirit Love in his fire refines,
- Come thou, and read, admire, applaud my lines.
- L
- As in some countries far remote from hence
- The wretched creature destined to die,
- Having the judgement due to his offence,
- By surgeons begg'd, their art on him to try,
- Which, on the living, work without remorse,
- First make incision on each mastering vein,
- Then staunch the bleeding, then trasnpierce the corse,
- And with their balms recure the wounds again,
- Then poison and with physic him restore;
- Not that they fear the hopeless man to kill,
- But their experience to increase the more;
- Ev'n so my mistress works upon my ill,
- By curing me and killing me each hour,
- Only to show her beauty's sovereign power.
- LI
- Calling to mind, since first my love begun,
- Th'uncertain times oft varying in their course,
- How things still unexpectedly have run,
- As it please the Fates, by their resistless force.
- Lastly mine eyes amazedly have seen
- Essex' great fall, Tyrone his peace to gain;
- The quiet end of that long-living Queen;
- This King's fair entrance; and our peace with Spain,
- We and the Dutch at length ourselves to sever.
- Thus the world doth and evermore shall reel;
- Yet to my Goddess am I constant ever,
- Howe'er blind Fortune turn her giddy wheel.
- Though Heav'n and Earth prove both to me untrue,
- Yet am I still inviolate to you.
- LII
- What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart?
- To take all mine and give me none again?
- Or have thine eyes such magic or that art
- That what they get they ever do retain?
- Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse;
- Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity's sake;
- Or, cruel, if thou canst not, let us 'scourse*, [discourse, bargain]
- And, for one piece of thine, my whole heart take.
- But what of pity do I speak to thee,
- Whose breast is proof against complaint or prayer?
- Or can I think what my reward shall be
- From that proud beauty, which was my betrayer?
- What talk I of a heart, when thou hast none?
- Or, if thou hast, it is a flinty one.
- LIII
- Another to the River Anker
- Clear Anker, on whose silver-sanded shore
- My soul-shrin'd saint, my fair Idea, lies,
- O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore
- The crystal stream refined by her eyes,
- Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the Spring
- Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,
- Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing
- Among the dainty dew-impearled flowers;
- Say thus, fair Brook, when thou shalt see thy Queen,
- "Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wand'ring years,
- And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft hath been,
- And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears."
- Fair Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,
- And thou, sweet Anker, art my Helicon.
- LIV
- Yet read at last the story of my woe,
- The dreary abstracts of my endless cares,
- With my life's sorrow interlined so,
- Smok'd with my sighs and blotted with my tears,
- The sad memorials of my miseries,
- Penn'd in the grief of mine afflicted ghost,
- My life's complaint in doleful elegies,
- With so pure love as Time could never boast.
- Receive the incense which I offer here,
- By my strong faith ascending to thy fame,
- My zeal, my hope, my vows, my praise, my prayer,
- My soul's oblation to thy sacred name,
- Which name my Muse to highest heav'ns shall raise
- By chaste desire, true love, and virtuous praise.
- LV
- My Fair, if thou wilt register my love,
- A world of volumes shall thereof arise;
- Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove
- A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes.
- Note by my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold
- The sunbeams smother'd with immortal smoke;
- And if by thee my prayers may be enroll'd,
- They Heav'n and Earth to pity shall provoke.
- Look thou into my breast, and thou shalt see
- Chaste holy vows for my soul's sacrifice,
- That soul, sweet Maid, which so hath honor'd thee,
- Erecting trophies to thy sacred eyes,
- Those eyes to my heart shining ever bright,
- When darkness hath obscur'd each other light.
- LVI
- When like an eaglet I first found my Love,
- For that the virtue I thereof would know,
- Upon the nest I set it forth to prove
- If it were of that kingly kind or no;
- But it no sooner say my Sun appear,
- But on her rays with open eyes it stood,
- To show that I had hatch'd it for the air
- And rightly came from that brave mounting brood;
- And, when the plumes were summ'd* with sweet desire, [fully feathered]
- To prove the pinions it ascends the skies;
- Do what I could, it needsly* would aspire [of necessity]
- To my Soul's Sun, those two celestial eyes.
- Thus from my breast, where it was bred alone,
- It after thee is, like an eaglet, flown.
- LVII
- You best discern'd of my mind's inward eyes,
- And yet your graces outwardly divine,
- Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies,
- Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine;
- You, in whom Nature chose herself to view
- When she her own perfection would admire,
- Bestowing all her excellence on you,
- At whose pure eyes Love lights his hallow'd fire;
- E'en as a man that in some trance hath seen
- More than his won'ring utt'rance can unfold,
- That, rapt in spirit, in better worlds hath been,
- So must your praise distractedly be told,
- Most of all short when I would show you most,
- In your perfections so much am I lost.
- LVIII
- In former times such as had store of coin,
- In wars at home, or when for conquests bound,
- For fear that some their treasure should purloin,
- Gave it to keep to spirits within the ground,
- And to attend it them as strongly tied
- Till they return'd; home when they never came,
- Such as by art to get the same have tried
- From the strong Spirit by no means force the same;
- Nearer men come, that further flies away,
- Striving to hold it strongly in the deep.
- E'en as this Spirit, so you alone do play
- With those rich beauties Heav'n gives you to keep;
- Pity, so left to the coldness of your blood,
- Not to avail you, nor do the others good.
- LIX
- As Love and I, late harbor'd in one inn,
- With proverbs thus each other entertain:
- "In Love there is no lack," thus I begin;
- "Fair words make fools," replieth he again;
- "Who spares to speak doth spare to speed," quoth I;
- "As well," saith he, "too forward as too slow";
- "Fortune assists the boldest," I reply;
- "A hasty man," quoth he, "ne'er wanted woe";
- "Labor is light where Love," quoth I, "doth pay";
- Saith he, "Light burden's heavy, if far borne";
- Quoth I, "The main lost, cast the bye away";
- "You have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn.
- And having thus awhile each other thwarted,
- Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.
- LX
- Define my weal, and tell the joys of Heav'n;
- Express my woes, and show the pains of Hell;
- Declare what fate unlucky stars have giv'n,
- And ask a world upon my life to dwell;
- Make known the faith that Fortune could not move;
- Compare myu worth with others' base desert;
- Let virtue be the touchstone of my love,
- So may the heav'ns read wonders in my heart;
- Behold the clouds which have eclips'd my sun,
- And view the crosses which my course do let;
- Tell me if ever since the world begun
- So fair a rising had so foul a set,
- And see if Time (if he would strive to prove)
- Can show a second to so pure a love.
- LXI
- Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part,
- Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
- And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
- That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
- Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
- And when we meet at any time again
- Be it not seen in either of our brows
- That we one jot of former love retain.
- Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
- When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
- When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
- And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
- Now, if thou wouldst, when all have giv'n him over,
- From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
- LXII
- When first I ended, then I first began,
- The more I travell'd, further from my rest,
- Where most I lost, there most of all I wan*, [won]
- Pined with hunger rising from a feast.
- Methinks I fly, yet want I legs to go,
- Wise in conceit, in act a very sot,
- Ravish'd with joy amid a hell of woe;
- What most I seem, that surest am I not.
- I build my hopes a world above the sky,
- Yet with the mole I creep into the earth;
- In plenty I am starv'd with penury,
- And yet I surfeit in the greatest dearth.
- I have, I want, despair and yet desire,
- Burn'd in a sea of ice and drown'd amidst a fire.
- LXIII
- Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave;
- Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun;
- Nor thou nor I the better yet can have;
- Bad is the match where neither party won.
- I offer free conditions of fair peace,
- My heart for hostage that it shall remain;
- Discharge our forces, here let malice cease,
- So for my pledge thou give me pledge again.
- Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,
- Still thirsting for subversion of my state,
- Do what thou canst, rase, massacre, and burn;
- Let the world see the utmost of thy hate;
- I send defiance, since, if overthrown,
- Thou vanquishing, the conquest is my own.
Finis.