Can she excuse my wrongs?
Can she excuse my wrongs with virtue’s cloak?
shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No, no: where shadows do for bodies stand,
thou may’st be abused if thy sight be dim.
Cold love is like to words written on sand,
or to bubbles which on the water swim.
Wilt thou be thus abused still,
seeing that she will right thee never?
if thou canst not overcome her will,
thy love will be thus fruitless ever.
shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No, no: where shadows do for bodies stand,
thou may’st be abused if thy sight be dim.
Cold love is like to words written on sand,
or to bubbles which on the water swim.
Wilt thou be thus abused still,
seeing that she will right thee never?
if thou canst not overcome her will,
thy love will be thus fruitless ever.
Was I so base, that I might not aspire
Unto those high joys which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire:
If she this deny what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which reason is,
It is reasons will that love should be just.
Dear make me happy still by granting this,
Or cut off delays if that I die must.
Better a thousand times to die,
then for to live thus still tormented:
Dear but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented.
Unto those high joys which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire:
If she this deny what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which reason is,
It is reasons will that love should be just.
Dear make me happy still by granting this,
Or cut off delays if that I die must.
Better a thousand times to die,
then for to live thus still tormented:
Dear but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented.
When Laura smiles
When Laura smiles her sight revives both night and day.
The earth and heaven view with delight her wanton play.
And her speech with everflowing music doth repair
The cruel wounds of sorrow and untam'd despair.
The earth and heaven view with delight her wanton play.
And her speech with everflowing music doth repair
The cruel wounds of sorrow and untam'd despair.
The dainty sprites that still remain in fleeting air
Affect for pastime to untwine her tressèd hair.
And the birds think sweet Aurora, morning's queen, doth shine
From her bright sphere when Laura shews her looks divine.
Affect for pastime to untwine her tressèd hair.
And the birds think sweet Aurora, morning's queen, doth shine
From her bright sphere when Laura shews her looks divine.
Diana's eyes are not adorn'd with greater power
Than Laura's when she lists awhile for sport to lower.
But when she her eyes encloseth, blindness doth appear
The chiefest grace of beauty, sweetly seated there.
Than Laura's when she lists awhile for sport to lower.
But when she her eyes encloseth, blindness doth appear
The chiefest grace of beauty, sweetly seated there.
Love hath no fire but what he steals from her bright eyes.
Time hath no power, but that which in her pleasure lies.
For she, with her divine beauties, all the world subdues,
And fills with heav'nly spirits my humble muse.
Time hath no power, but that which in her pleasure lies.
For she, with her divine beauties, all the world subdues,
And fills with heav'nly spirits my humble muse.
If she forsake me
If she forsake me I must die,
Shall I tell her so,
Alas then strait will she reply,
no no no no no,
If I disclose my desp'rate state
She will but make sport thereat
And more unrelenting grow.
What heart can long such pains abide,
Fie upon this love,
I would adventure far and wide,
If it would remove,
But love will still my steps pursue,
I cannot his ways eschew,
Thus still helpless hopes I prove.
I doe my love in lines commend,
But alas in vain,
The costly gifts that I do send,
She returns again,
Thus still is my despair procur'd,
And her malice more assured,
Then come death and end my paine.
Shall I tell her so,
Alas then strait will she reply,
no no no no no,
If I disclose my desp'rate state
She will but make sport thereat
And more unrelenting grow.
What heart can long such pains abide,
Fie upon this love,
I would adventure far and wide,
If it would remove,
But love will still my steps pursue,
I cannot his ways eschew,
Thus still helpless hopes I prove.
I doe my love in lines commend,
But alas in vain,
The costly gifts that I do send,
She returns again,
Thus still is my despair procur'd,
And her malice more assured,
Then come death and end my paine.
Think’st thou then by thy feigning
Think'st thou then by thy feigning
Sleep, with a proud disdaining,
Or with thy crafty closing
Thy cruel eyes reposing,
To drive me from thy sight,
When sleep yields more delight,
Such harmless beauty gracing.
And while sleep feigned is,
May not I steal a kiss,
Thy quiet arms embracing.
Sleep, with a proud disdaining,
Or with thy crafty closing
Thy cruel eyes reposing,
To drive me from thy sight,
When sleep yields more delight,
Such harmless beauty gracing.
And while sleep feigned is,
May not I steal a kiss,
Thy quiet arms embracing.
O that thy sleep dissembled,
Were to a trance resembled,
Thy cruel eyes deceiving,
Of lively sense bereaving:
Then should my love requite
Thy love's unkind despite,
While fury triumph'd boldly
In beauty's sweet disgrace:
And liv'd in deep embrace
Of her that lov'd so coldly.
Were to a trance resembled,
Thy cruel eyes deceiving,
Of lively sense bereaving:
Then should my love requite
Thy love's unkind despite,
While fury triumph'd boldly
In beauty's sweet disgrace:
And liv'd in deep embrace
Of her that lov'd so coldly.
Should then my love aspiring,
Forbidden joys desiring,
So far exceed the duty
That virtue owes to beauty?
No Love seek not thy bliss,
Beyond a simple kiss:
For such deceits are harmless,
Yet kiss a thousand-fold.
For kisses may be bold
When lovely sleep is armless.
Forbidden joys desiring,
So far exceed the duty
That virtue owes to beauty?
No Love seek not thy bliss,
Beyond a simple kiss:
For such deceits are harmless,
Yet kiss a thousand-fold.
For kisses may be bold
When lovely sleep is armless.
Say, Love if ever thou didst find
Say, Love if ever thou didst find,
A woman with a constant mind,
None but one,
And what should that rare mirror be,
Some goddess or some queen is she,
She and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
But could thy fiery poison'd dart
At no time touch her spotless heart
Nor come near?
She is not subject to Love's bow,
Her eye commands, her heart saith 'No',
No and only no
One no another still doth follow.
How might I that fair wonder know
That mocks desire with endless no
See the moon
That ever in one change doth grow
Yet still the same and she is so
So and only so
From Heav'n her virtues she doth borrow
To her then yield thy shafts and bow,
That can command affections so:
Love is free,
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee,
There is no queen of love but she,
She and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
A woman with a constant mind,
None but one,
And what should that rare mirror be,
Some goddess or some queen is she,
She and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
But could thy fiery poison'd dart
At no time touch her spotless heart
Nor come near?
She is not subject to Love's bow,
Her eye commands, her heart saith 'No',
No and only no
One no another still doth follow.
How might I that fair wonder know
That mocks desire with endless no
See the moon
That ever in one change doth grow
Yet still the same and she is so
So and only so
From Heav'n her virtues she doth borrow
To her then yield thy shafts and bow,
That can command affections so:
Love is free,
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee,
There is no queen of love but she,
She and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
Over the Hills – lyrics by John Gay
Mac. Were I laid on Greenland’s coast,
And in my arms embraced my lass,
Warm amidst eternal frost,
Too soon the half-year’s night would pass.
Polly. Were I sold on Indian soil,
Soon as the burning day was closed,
I could mock the sultry toil
When on my charmer’s breast reposed.
Mac. And I would love you all the day,
Polly. Every night would kiss and play,
Mac. If with me you’d fondly stray
Polly. Over the hills, and far away.
Lumps of Pudding – lyrics by John Gay.
Thus I stand like the Turk, with his Doxies around;
From all sides their Glances his Passion confound;
For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns,
And the different Beauties subdue him by turns.
Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires.
Though willing to all, with but one he retires.
Nut think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow;
The Wretch of Today may be happy To-morrow.
The Wretch of Today may be happy To-morrow.
Love’s Constancy – poem by Thomas Carew
No more shall meads be deck’d with flow’rs,
Nor sweetness live in rosy bow’rs,
Nor greenest buds on branches spring,
Nor warbling birds delight to sing,
Nor April violets paint the grove,
When once I leave my Celia’s love.
The fish shall in the ocean burn,
And fountains sweet shall bitter turn;
The humble vale no floods shall know,
When floods shall highest hills o’erflow:
Black Lethe shall oblivion leave,
Before my Celia I deceive.
Love shall his bow and shafts lay by,
And Venus’ doves want wings to fly:
The sun refuse to show his light,
And day shall then be turned to night;
And in that night no star appear,
Whene’er I leave my Celia dear.
Love shall no more inhabit Earth,
Nor lovers more shall love for worth;
Nor joy above in Heaven dwell,
Nor pain torment poor souls in hell:
Grim Death no more shall horrid prove,
Whene’er I leave bright Celia’s love.
