Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes(fore dutious)now conuerted are
From his low tract and looke an other way:
So thou,thy felfe out-going in thy noon:
Vnlok'd on dieft vnleffe thou get a fonne.
Myfickthively warre not, ioy delights in ioy:
Vfick to heare, why hear'ft thou mufick fadly,
Why lou'st thou that which thou receauft not gladly,
Or elfe reccau'ft with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well tuned founds,
By vnions married do offend thine eare,
They do but fweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleneffe the parts that thou fhould'ft beare:
Marke how one ftring fweet husband to an other,
Strikes each in each by mucuall ordering;
Refembling fier,and child, and happy mother,
Who all in one, one pleafing note do fing:
Whofe fpeechleffe fong being many,feeming one,
Sings this to thee thou fingle wilt proue none.
Is to wet delfin
'S it for feare to wet a widdowes
eye,
That thou confum'ft thy felfe in fingle life?
Ah;if thou iffuleffe fhalt hap to die,
The world will waile thee like a makeleffe wife,
The world wilbe thy widdow and still weepe,
That thou no forme of thee haft left behind,
When euery priuat widdow well may keepe,
By childrens eyes,her husbands shape in minde:
Looke what an vnthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place,for ftill the world inioyes it
But beauties wafte hath in the world an end,
And kept vnvfde the vfer fo deftroyes it:
No loue toward others in that bosome fits
That on himselfe fuch murdrous fhame commits.
Or fhame deny that thou bear'ft love to any
Who for thy felfe art fo vnprouident.
Graunt if thou wilt,thou art belou'd of many,
But that thou none lou'ft is moft euident:
For thou art fo poffeft with murdrous hate,
That gainft thy felfe theu fuckft not to confpire,
Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate
Which to repaire should be thy chiefe defire :
Ochange thy thought,that I may change my minde,
Shall hate be fairer log'd then gentle loue?
Be as thy prefence is gracious and kind,
Or to thy felfe at leaft kind harted proue,
Make thee an other felfe for loue of me,
That beauty ftill may liue in thine or thee.
Asfalt as choufhalt wane fo faft thou grow ft,
In one of thine,from that which thou departeft, And that fresh bloud which yongly thou bestow'ft, Thou maist call thine, when thou from youth conuerteft, Herein liues wisdome,beauty,and increase,
Without this follie,age,and could decay,
If all were minded fo,the times should ceafe,
And threefcoore yeare would make the world away:
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh,featureleffe,and rude, barrenly perrish,
Looke whom the beft indow'd,fhe gaue the more;
Which bountious guift thou shouldst in bounty cherrish,
She caru'd thee for her feale,and ment therby,
Thou shouldft print more,not let that coppy die.
VVHen I doe count the clock that tels the time,
And fee the braue day funck in hidious night,
When I behold the violet paft prime,
And fable curls or filuer'd ore with white:
When lofty trees I fee barren of leaues,
Which erft from heat did canopie the herd
And Sommers greene all girded vp in fheaues
Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard:
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must goe,
Since fweets and beauties do them-felues forfake,
And die as faft as they fee others grow,
And nothing gainst Times fieth can make defence
Saue breed to braue him, when he takes thee hence.
13
That you were your felfe, but loue you are
No longer yours,then you your felfe here liue,
Against this cumming end you should prepare,
And your sweet femblance to fome other giue.
So fhould that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination,then you were
You felfe again after your felfes decease,
When your fweer flue your feet forme should beare.
Who lets fo faire a houfe fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might vphold,
Against the floumy gufts of vinters day
And barren rage of deaths eternall cold?
O none but vnthrifts, deare my loue you know,
You had a Father,let your Son fay fo.
Not from the Atars do my judgement plucke,
And yet me thinkes I haue Aftronomy,
But not to tell of good,or euil lucke,
Of plagues, of dearths,or feafons quallity,
Nor can i fortune to breefe mynuits tell;
Pointing to each his thunder, raine and winde,
Or fay with Princes if it fhal
go wel
By oft predict that I in heauen finde, que
But from thine eies my knowledge I deriue,
And conftant ftars in them I read fuch art
As truth and beautie fhal together thriue
If from thy felfe,to store thou wouldst conuert:
|