By our first strange and fatal interview,
By all desires which thereof did ensue,
By our long starving hopes, by that
Which my words masculine persuasive
Begot in thee, and by the
Of hurts, which spies and rivals threaten'd me,
I calmly beg.
But by thy father's wrath,
By all pains, which want and divorcement hath,
I conjure thee, and all the oaths which
And thou have sworn to seal joint constancy,
Here I unswear, and overswear them thus ;
Thou shalt not love by ways so dangerous.
Temper,
O fair love, love's impetuous rage ;
Be my true mistress still, not my feign'd page.
I'll go, and, by thy kind leave, leave
Thee, only worthy to nurse in my
Thirst to come back ;
O ! if thou die before,
My soul from other lands to thee shall soar.
Thy else almighty beauty cannot
Rage from the seas, nor thy love teach them love,
Nor tame wild Boreas' harshness ; thou hast
How roughly he in pieces
Fair Orithea, whom he swore he loved.
Fall ill or good, 'tis madness to have
Dangers unurged ; feed on this flattery,
That absent lovers one in th' other be.
Dissemble nothing, not a boy, nor
Thy body's habit, nor mind ; be not
To thyself only.
All will spy in thy faceA blushing womanly discovering grace.
Richly clothed apes are call'd apes, and as
Eclipsed as bright, we call the moon the moon.
Men of France, changeable chameleons,
Spitals of diseases, shops of fashions,
Love's fuellers, and the rightest
Of players, which upon the world's stage be,
Will quickly know thee, and no less, alas !
Th' indifferent Italian, as we
His warm land, well content to think thee page,
Will hunt thee with such lust, and hideous rage,
As Lot's fair guests were vex'd.
But none of
Nor spongy hydroptic Dutch shall thee displease,
If thou stay here.
O stay here, for for
England is only a worthy gallery,
To walk in expectation, till from
Our greatest king call thee to his presence.
When I am gone, dream me some happiness ;
Nor let thy looks our long-hid love confess ;
Nor praise, nor dispraise me, nor bless nor
Openly love's force, nor in bed fright thy
With midnight's startings, crying out,
O !
O !
Nurse,
O ! my love is slain ;
I saw him goO'er the white Alps alone ;
I saw him,
I,
Assail'd, fight, taken, stabb'd, bleed, fall, and die.
Augur me better chance, except dread
Think it enough for me to have had thy love.
