But where's that wise man, that would not be I‚· Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth set and sing my pain; To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, For both their triumphs so are published, Now thou hast loved me one whole day, To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow? We are not just those persons which we were? Of Love and his wrath, any may forswear? say Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose? For having purposed change, and falsehood, you Which I abstain to do, For by to-morrow I may think so too. ? SONG Go and catchfalling star, Get with child á mandrake root, What wind Serves to advance an honest mind. If thou be'st born to strange sights, Ride ten thousand days and nights, Till age snow white hairs on thee, Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me, All strange wonders that befell thee, |