A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING. LET me pour forth My tears before thy face whilst I stay here, Pregnant of thee; Fruits of much grief they are, embléms of more; When a tear falls, that Thou fall'st which it bore, So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore. On a round ball A workman, that hath copies by, can lay An Europe, Afric, and an Asia, And quickly make that, which was nothing, All, So doth each tear Which thee doth wear, 1 A globe, yea, world 1 by that impression grow, Till thy tears mixed with mine do overflow This world by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so. O more than moon, Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere, To teach the sea what it may do too soon; Let not the wind Example find 1 would, 1669. To do me more harm than it purposeth ; Since thou and I sigh one another's breath, Whoe'er sighs most, is cruellest, and hastes the other's death. LOVE'S ALCHEMY. SOME that have deeper digged love's mine than I, Say where his centric happiness doth lie; I have loved and got and told, But should I love, get, tell, till I were old, And as no chymic yet the Elixir got, So lovers dream a rich and long delight, Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day Can be as happy as I can, if he can Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play? 'T is not the bodies marry, but the minds, Would swear as justly that he hears, In that day's rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres : Hope not for mind in women; at their best Sweetness and wit, they 're but mummy, possest. THE CURSE. WHOEVER guesses, thinks, or dreams he knows May some dull heart to love dispose, May he be scorned by one whom all else scorn, Madness his sorrow, gout his cramp,2 may he Of conscience, but of fame, and be Anguished, not that 't was sin, but that 't was she; 1 Him only for his purse May some dull whore to love dispose, 3 Or may he for her virtue reverence One that hates him only for impotence, May he dream treason and believe that he His sons, which none of his may be, Or may he so long parasites have fed, That he would fain be theirs whom he hath bred, And at the last be circumcised for bread. The venom of all step-dames, gamester's gall, THE MESSAGE.1 SEND home my long-strayed eyes to me, And false passions, That they be Made by thee Fit for no good sight, keep them still. 1 Without title in 1633. 2 But if they there, 1669. Send home my harmless heart again, Of protestings, And break both Word and oath, Keep it, for then 't is none of mine.2 Yet send me back my heart and eyes, And dost languish For some one, That will none, Or prove as false as thou art now.8 A NOCTURNAL UPON S. LUCY'S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY. 'T Is the year's midnight, and it is the day's, Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks; The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rays; The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, 1 But. 2 Keep it still, 't is none of mine, 1669. 3 dost now, ibid. |