« PreviousContinue »
LOVE COMPARED TO A WAXEN IMAGE.
For now my love is thaw'd;
LOVE INCREASED BY ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS IT.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul. The more thou damp'st" it up, the more it The current, that with gentlemurmurglides,[burns; Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course: I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And, there I'll rest, as, after much turmoilt, A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
A FAITH FUL AND CONSTANT LOVER,
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. * Closest. + Trouble.
A CT III.
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
A LovER's BANISHMENT.
And why not death, rather than living torment? To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self; a deadly banishment! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the mightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon.
BEAUTY PETITIONING IN WAIN.
Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom (Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force), A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became As if but now they waxed pale with woe: [them, But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts.
LOVE COMPARED TO A FIGURE ON ICE.
This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched" in ice; which with an hour's heat Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.
THREE THINGS IN MAN DISLIKED BY FEMALES.
The best way is to slander Valentine
THE POWER OF POETRY WITH FEMALES.
Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity: For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
A CT IV.
* Cut, + In good earnest.
A LOVER IN SOLITUDE.
How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And, to the nightingale's complaining notes, Tune my distresses, and record" my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!
What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look? O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv’dt, When women cannot love where they're belov’d.
INFIDELITY IN A FRIEND.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, [hand I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect: that one error
That any did: Had we pursued that life,
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
FONDNESS OF A FATHER FOR HIS CHILD.
Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince Do seem to be of ours? [as we
Pol. If at home, sir,
* Setting aside original sin.