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As lightning or a taper's light,

Thine eyes, and not thy noise, wak'd me;

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(For thou lov'st truth) an angel at first sight; But when I saw thou saw'st my heart,

And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art,

When thou knew'st what I dreamt, then thou knew'st Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then. [when I must confess it could not chuse but be

Profane to think thee any thing but thee.

Coming and staying shew'd thee thee,
But rising makes me doubt that now
Thou art not thou.

That Love is weak where Fear's as strong as he;
'Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,

If mixture it of fear, shame, honour, have.
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me;
Thou cam'st to kindle, goest to come: then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.

A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING.

LET me pour forth

My tears before thy face whilst I stay here,
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear;

And by this mintage they are something worth,

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For thus they be

Pregnant of thee:

Fruits of much grief they are emblems of more, When a tear falls, that thou fall'st, which it bore; So thou and I are nothing then when on a diverse shore.

On a round ball

A workman, that hath copies by, can lay

An Europe, Afrique, and an Asia,

And quickly make that which was nothing all:
So doth each tear

Which thou doth wear

A globe, yea, world, by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mixt with mine do overflow

This world, by waters sent from thee, my heav'n dis

O more than moon,

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Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere;
Weep me not dead in thine,arms, but forbear
To teach the sea what it may do too soon:
Let not the wind

Example find

To do me more harm than it purposeth:
Since thou and I sigh one another's breath,

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Whoe'er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other's

death.

Donne

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LOVE'S ALCHYMY.

SOME that have deeper digg'd Love's mine than I,

Say where his centric happiness doth lie:
I've lov'd, and got, and told,

But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I should not find that hidden mystery:

Oh! 'tis imposture all:

And as no chymic yet th' elixir got,
But glorifies his pregnant pot,
If by the way to him befall

Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal,
So lovers dream a rich and long delight,
But get a winter-seeming summer's night.

Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day,
Shall we for this vain bubble's shadow pay?
Ends love in this, that my man

Can be as happy as I can? If he can

Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play,

That loving wretch that swears

'Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds, Which he in her angelic finds,

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

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Sweetness and wit they're but mummy possest.

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THE CURSE.

WHOEVER guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows

Who is my mistress, wither by this Curse;

Him only for his purse

May some dull whore to love dispose,

And then yield unto all that are his foes;
May he be scorn'd by one whom all else scorn,
Forswear to others what to her 'hath sworn,
With fear of missing, shame of getting, torn.

Madness his sorrow, gout his cramp, may he Make, by but thinking who hath made them such; And may he feel no touch

Of conscience, but of fame, and be

Anguish'd, not that 't was sin, but that 't was she:
Or may he for her virtue reverence

One that hates him only for impotence,
And equal traitors be she and his sense.

May he dream treason, and believe that he
Meant to perform it, and confess and die,
And no record tell why:

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His sons, which none of his may be,

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Inherit nothing but his infamy:

Or may he so long parasites have fed,

That he would fain be theirs whom he hath bred,

And at the last be circumcis'd for bread,

The venom of all stepdames, gamester's gall,
What tyrants and their subjects interwish,
What plants, mine, beasts, fowl, fish,
Can contribute, all ill which all

Prophets or poets spake; and all which shall
Be' annexed in schedules unto this by me
Fall on that man; for if it be a she,
Nature before-hand hath out-cursed me.

THE MESSAGE.

SEND home my long-stray'd eyes to me,
Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee;
But if they there have learn'd such ill,
Such forc'd fashions

And false passions,

That they be

Made by thee

Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again,

Which no unworthy thought could stain;

But if it be taught by thine

To make jestings

Of protestings,

And break both

Word and oath,

Keep it still, 'tis none of mine.

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