Was it the proud full fail 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 fpirit, 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 filence cannot boast;
I was not fick of any fear from thence:
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'ft thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deferving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is fwerving.
Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not know-
Or me, to whom thou gaveft it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon mifprifion growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no fuch matter.
When thou shalt be difpofed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy fide against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forfworn.
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 fhalt 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, difgrace me half so ill,
To fet a form upon defired change,
As I'll myself difgrace; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance ftrangle and look strange;
Be abfent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Left I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
For thee, against myself I'll vow debate,
For I muft ne'er love him whom thou doft hate.
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-lofs :
Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this forrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: fo fhall I tafte
At first the very worft of fortune's might;
And other ftrains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.
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