1. If my complaints could passions move,
Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong:
My passions were enough to prove,
That my despairs had govern`d me too long.
O Love, I live and die in thee,... Читать дальше

1. If my complaints could passions move,
Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong:
My passions were enough to prove,
That my despairs had govern`d me too long.
O Love, I live and die in thee,
Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks:
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me,
My heart for thy unkindness breaks:
Yet thou dost hope when I despair,
And when I hope, thou mak`st me hope in vain.
Thou say`s thou canst my harms repair,
Yet for redress, thou let`st me still complain.

2. Can Love be rich, and yet I want?
Is Love my judge, and yet am I condemn`d?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant:
Thou made a god, and yet thy pow`r contemn`d.
That I do live, it is thy pow`r:
That I desire it is thy worth:
If Love doth make men`s lives too sour,
Let me not love, nor live henceforth.
Die shall my hopes, but not my faith,
That you that of my fall may hearers be
May here despair, which truly saith,
I was more true to Love than Love to me.

Х Свернуть

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,... Читать дальше

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.

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.

Х Свернуть

1. Come again! sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.

2. Come again! that... Читать дальше

1. Come again! sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.

2. Come again! that I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain;
For now left and forlorn
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.

3. All the day the sun that lends me shine
By frowns doth cause me pine
And feeds me with delay;
Her smiles, my springs that makes my joy to grow,
Her frowns the winter of my woe.

4. All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams.
My heart takes no delight
To see the fruits and joys that some do find
And mark the stormes are me assign`d.

5. But alas, my faith is ever true,
Yet will she never rue
Nor yield me any grace;
Her Eyes of fire, her heart of flint is made,
Whom tears nor truth may once invade.

6. Gentle Love, draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pierce her heart;
For I, that do approve
By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts
Do tempt while she for triumphs laughs.

Х Свернуть

Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn;
Where night`s black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.

Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No... Читать дальше

Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn;
Where night`s black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.

Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those
That in despair their lost fortunes deplore.
Light doth but shame disclose.

Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pity is fled;
And tears and sighs and groans my weary days
Of all joys have deprived.

From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is thrown;
And fear and grief and pain for my deserts
Are my hopes, since hope is gone.

Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell,
Learn to condemn light
Happy, happy they that in hell
Feel not the world`s despite.

Х Свернуть

For Lucy, Countess of Bedford

1. Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new,
god penniworths, but money cannot prove,
I keep a fair, but for the fair to view
a beggar may be liberal... Читать дальше

For Lucy, Countess of Bedford

1. Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new,
god penniworths, but money cannot prove,
I keep a fair, but for the fair to view
a beggar may be liberal of love,
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true.

2. Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again,
My trifles come as treasures from my mind,
It is a precious jewel to be plain,
Sometimes in shell the Orient`s pearls we find.
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain

3. Within this pack pins, points, laces and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court`s brood, a heav`nly pair.
Happy the man that thinks of no removes.

Х Свернуть

Shall I strive with wordes to move,
when deedes receive not due regard?
Shall I speake, and neyther please,
nor be freely heard?

Griefe alas though all in vaine,
her restlesse anguish must... Читать дальше

Shall I strive with wordes to move,
when deedes receive not due regard?
Shall I speake, and neyther please,
nor be freely heard?

Griefe alas though all in vaine,
her restlesse anguish must reveale:
Shee alone my wound shall know,
though shee will not heale.

Х Свернуть

Tell me true Love where shall I seeke thy being,
In thoughts or words, in vowes or promise making,
In reasons, lookes, or passions never seeing,
In men on earth, or womens minds partaking.
Thou... Читать дальше

Tell me true Love where shall I seeke thy being,
In thoughts or words, in vowes or promise making,
In reasons, lookes, or passions never seeing,
In men on earth, or womens minds partaking.
Thou canst not dye, and therefore living tell me
where is thy seate, why doth this age expell thee?

When thoughts are still unseene and words disguised;
vowes are not sacred held, nor promise debt:
By passion reasons glory is surprised,
in neyther sexe is true love firmly set.
Thoughts fainde, words false, vowes and promise broken
Made true Love flye from earth, this is the token.

Х Свернуть

Lasso vita mia, mi fa morire,
Crudel amor mio cor consume,
Da mille ferite, che mi fa morir.
Ahi me, deh, che non mi fa morire.
Crudel amor mi fa sofrir mille martire.