O, never say that I was false of heart, Though abfence feem'd my flame to qualify. As easy might I from myself depart
As from my foul, which in thy breast doth lie: That is my home of love: if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my ftain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could fo prepofterously be ftain'd, To leave for nothing all thy fum of good; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, fold cheap what is most Made old offences of affections new;
Moft true it is that I have look'd on truth
Afkance and ftrangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love. Now all is done, have what shall have no end: Mine appetite I never more will grind On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confined.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.
O, for my fake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds. 'Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almoft thence my nature is fubdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; Whilft, like a willing patient, I will drink Potions of eifel, 'gainst my strong infection; No bitterness that I will bitter think, Nor double penance, to corre& correction. Pity me then, dear friend, and I affure ye Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
Your love and pity doth the impreffion fill Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to me, nor I to none alive,
my fteel'd sense or changes right or wrong.
In fo profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's fenfe To critic and to flatterer ftopped are. Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: You are so ftrongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks they're dead.
Since I left you mine eye is in my mind, And that which governs me to go about Doth part his function and is partly blind, Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; For if it see the rudest or gentleft fight,
The most sweet favour or deformed'ft creature, The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature : Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
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