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1.

WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?'
O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.

II.

Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
That like two spirits do suggest me still;
My better angel is a man right fair.
My worser spirit a woman color'd ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;

For being both to me, both to each friend,

I

guess one angel in another's hell:

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The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

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Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapor is;
Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine,
Exhale this vapor vow: in thee it is:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.

If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise?

IV.

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Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Under an osier growing by a brook,
A brook were Adon used to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brock's green brim:
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, 81
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.

He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood: 'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood?'

VII.

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty:
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. go

Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
Between each kiss her oathsoftrue love swearing!
How many tales to please me hath she coined,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were
jestings.

She burned with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burn'd out love, as soon as straw outburneth;
She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the fram-
ing;

She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. 100
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

VIII.

If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Because thou lovest the one, and I the other,
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.

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One god is god of both, as poets feign;
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.

IX.

Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,

Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud andwild; 120
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,
Forbade the boyhe shouldnot pass those grounds;
Once,' quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a
boar,

Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore.
She showed hers: he saw more wounds than
one,

And blushing fled, and left her all alone. 130

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Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:

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Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god embraced me,

And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
'Even thus, 'quoth she, 'the warlike god unlaced
me,'

As if the boy should use like loving charms; 150
'Even thus, quoth she, he seized on my lips,'
And with her lips on his did act the seizure:
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
Andwould not take her meaning nor herpleasure.
Ah, that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I run away!

XII.

Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,age like winterweather;
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; 161
Youth is nimble, age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee;
O, my love, my love is young!
Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.

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So beauty blemish'd once's forever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. 180

XIV.

Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
'Farewell,' quoth she, and come again to-

morrow."

Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: 'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, "T may be, again to make me wander thither: 'Wander,' a word for shadows like myself, 191 As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

XV.

Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch: the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.

She told the youngling how god Mars did try Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,

her,

And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.

While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, And wish her lays were tuned like the lark :

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XIX.

Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame,
And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike, 300
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy partial might:
Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young nor yet unwed.

And when thou comest thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell,--
A cripple soon can find a halt:-

But plainly say thou lovest her well,
And set thy person forth to sell.

What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night:

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And then too late she will repent

That thus dissembled her delight;

And twice desire, ere it be day,

That which with scorn she put away.

What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say,
'Had women been so strong as men,
In faith, you had not had it then.'
And to her will frame all thy ways:
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.

Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble true;

Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Press never thou to choose anew:

When time shall serve, be thou not slack
To proffer, though she put thee back.

The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft,

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A woman's nay doth stand for nought? 340

†Think women still to strive with men,

To sin and never for to saint:

There is no heaven, by holy then,
When time with age doth them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,

One woman would another wed.

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And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity:
'Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry;
'Tereu, tereu!' by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain!
None takes pity on thy pain:

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Senseless trees they cannot hear thee; Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: King Pandion he is dead;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;

All thy fellow birds do sing,

Careless of thy sorrowing.

Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.

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Whilst as fickle fortune smiled,

Thou and I were both beguiled.

Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.

Words are easy, like the wind;

Faithful friends are hard to find:

Every man will be thy friend

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call,
And with such-like flattering,
'Pity but he were a king;'

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If he be addict to vice, Quickly him they will entice; If to women he be bent, They have at commandement: But if Fortune once do frown; Then farewell his great renown; They that fawn'd on him before Use his company no more.

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