You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, Being fond on praise, which makes your praises
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled. Reserve1 their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, while others write good
And, like unletter'd clerk, still cry Amen To every hymn that able spirit affords, In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say, 'Tis so,' ''Tis true,' And to the most of praise add something more ; But that it is in my thought, whose love to you, Though words come hindmost, holds his rank
Then others for the breath of words respect; Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He, nor that affable familiar ghost, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors, of my silence cannot boast: I was not sick of any fear from thence. But when your countenance filed up his line, Then lack'd I matter; that enfecbled mine.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate.2
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not
Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment inaking. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter; In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted; That thou, in losing me, shalt win much glory : And I by this will be a gainer too; For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to myself I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence: Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt; Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange; Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue Thy sweet-Leloved name no more shall dweli ; Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted; That thou, in losing me, shalt win much glory : And I by this will be a gainer too; For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to myself I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence: Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt; Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange; Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue Thy sweet-Leloved name no more shall dweli ; Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance teil.
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