E'en from my heart the strings do break. WHEN THOU MUST HOME When thou must home to shades of underground, And there arrived, a new admired guest, The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, 5 White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest, To hear the stories of thy finished love From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move; Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights, Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, Of journeys and great challenges of knights, And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake: ΙΟ When thou hast told these honors done to thee, Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me. COME, CHEERFUL DAY Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me; For while thou view'st me with thy fading light, Part of my life doth still depart with thee, And I still onward haste to my last night. Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly: 5 So every day we live a day we die. But Oye nights, ordained for barren rest, How are my days deprived of life in you When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossest, By feigned death life sweetly to renew! Part of my life in that, you life deny: ΙΟ To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy For names, but call forth thundering name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much. 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways 5 Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; 1 spikenard. Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles to us, Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, 35 Leave thee alone for the comparison Sent forth, or since did from their ashes |