Page images
PDF
EPUB

Her heart, that melts to hear of other's moan,
To mine is stone;

Her eyes, that weep a stranger's eyes to see,
Joy to wound me :

Yet I so well affect each part,

As (caus'd by them) I love my smart.

Say her disdainings justly must be grac'd
With name of chaste;

And that she frowns, lest longing should exceed,
And raging breed;

So her disdains can ne'er offend;
Unless self-love take private end.

'Tis love breeds love in me, and cold disdain Kills that again;

As water causeth fire to fret and fume,

Till all consume.

Who can of love more rich gift make,
Than to love's self for love's own sake?

I'll never dig in quarry of an heart,
To have no part;

Nor roast in fiery eyes, which always are
Canicular.

Who this way would a lover prove,
May show his patience, not his love.

A frown may be sometimes for physic good,
But not for food;

And for that raging humour there is sure
A gentler cure.

Why bar you love of private end,
Which never should to public tend?

TO THE

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY.

AUGUST, 1614.

FAIR, great, and good, since seeing you we see
What Heav'n can do, what any earth can be:
Since now your beauty shines, now when the Sun,
Grown stale, is to so low a value run,
That his dishevel'd beams and scatter'd fires
Serve but for ladies' periwigs and tires

In lovers' sonnets: you come to repair
God's book of creatures, teaching what is fair.
Since now, when all is wither'd, shrunk, and dry'd,
All virtues ebb'd out to a dead low tide,

All the world's frame being crumbled into sand,
Where ev'ry man thinks by himself to stand,
Integrity, friendship, and confidence,
(Cements of greatness) being vapour'd hence,
And narrow man being fill'd with little shares,
Courts, city, church, are all shops of small-wares,
All having blown to sparks their noble fire,
And drawn their sound gold ingot into wire;
All trying by a love of littleness

To make abridgments and to draw to less,
Even that nothing, which at first we were;
Since in these times your greatness doth appear,
And that we learn by it, that man, to get
Towards him that's infinite, must first be great.
Since in an age so ill, as none is fit

So much as to accuse, much less mend it,

(For who can judge or witness of those times,
Where all alike are guilty of the crimes?)
Where he, that would be good, is thought by all
A monster, or at best fantastical:

Since now you durst be good, and that I do
Discern, by daring to contemplate you,

That there may be degrees of fair, great, good,
Through your light, largeness, virtue understood:
If in this sacrifice of mine be shown

Any small spark of these, call it your own:
And if things like these have been said by me
Of others; call not that idolatry.

For had God made man first, and man had seen
The third day's fruits and flowers, and various green,
He might have said the best that he could say
Of those fair creatures, which were made that day : ·
And when next day he had admir'd the birth
Of Sun, Moon, stars, fairer than late-prais'd Earth,
He might have said the best that he could say,
And not be chid for praising yesterday :
So though some things are not together true,
As, that another's worthiest, and that you :
Yet to say so doth not condemn a man,

If, when he spoke them, they were both true then.
How fair a proof of this in our soul grows?

We first have souls of growth, and sense; and those,
When our last soul, our soul immortal, came,
Were swallow'd into it, and have no name :
Nor doth he injure those souls, which doth cast
The power and praise of both them on the last;
No more do I wrong any, if I adore

The same things now, which I ador❜d before,
The subject chang'd, and measure; the same thing
In a low constable and in the king

I reverence; his power to work on me:
So did I humbly reverence each degree

Of fair, great, good; but more, now I am come
From having found their walks, to find their home.
And as I owe my first soul's thanks, that they
For my last soul did fit and mould my clay,
So am I debtor unto them, whose worth
Enabled me to profit, and take forth

This new great lesson, thus to study you;
Which none, not reading others first, could do.
Nor lack I light to read this book, though I
In a dark cave, yea, in a grave do lie;
For as your fellow angels, so you do
Illustrate them, who come to study you.
The first, whom we in histories do find
To have profess'd all arts, was one born blind:
He lack'd those eyes beasts have as well as we,
Not those, by which angels are seen and see;
So, though I'm born without those eyes to live,
Which Fortune, who hath none herself, doth give,
Which are fit means to see bright courts and you,
Yet may I see you thus, as now I do;

I shall by that all goodness have discern'd,
And, though I burn my library, be learn'd.

TO BEN JONSON.

NOV. 9, 1603.

If great men wrong me, I will spare myself;
If mean, I will spare them; I know, the pelf,
Which is ill got, the owner doth upbraid;
It may corrupt a judge, make me afraid

And a jury but 'twill revenge in this,

:

That, though himself be judge, he guilty is.
What care I though of weakness men tax me?
I'd rather sufferer than doer be;

That I did trust it was my nature's praise,
For breach of word I knew but as a phrase.
That judgment is, that surely can comprise

The world in precepts, most happy and most wise.
What though? though less, yet some of both have
Who have learn'd it by use and misery.

[we,

Poor I, whom every petty cross doth trouble,
Who apprehend each hurt, that's done me, double,
Am of this (though it should think me) careless,
It would but force me t' a stricter goodness.
They have great gain of me, who gain do win
(If such gain be not loss) from every sin.
The standing of great men's lives would afford
A pretty sum, if God would sell his word.

He cannot; they can theirs, and break them too.
How unlike they are that they're likened to?
Yet I conclude, they are amidst my evils,

If good, like gods; the naught are so like devils.

« PreviousContinue »