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HOW heavy do I journey on the way,
When that I seek my weary travel's end,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,
Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend;
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me;
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider lov'd not speed being made from thee.
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide;
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me, than spurring to his side,
For that same groan
doth put this in my
My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence


Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:

From where thou art, why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.

O! what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur tho' mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know.
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace,
Therefore desire of perfect love being made
Shall neigh no dull flesh in his fiery race,
But love for love thus shall excuse my jade.


Since from thee going, he went wilful slow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.


MINE eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight:
My eye, my heart their pictures sight should bar,
My heart, my eye the freedom of that right:
My heart doth plead, that thou in him dost lie;
(A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes)
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says, in him their fair appearance lies.
To 'cide this title, impannelled

A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined

The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part,
As thus; mine eyes due is their outward part,
And my heart's right, their inward love of heart.

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other :
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother:
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart.
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.


So either by the picture of my love,
Thyself away, are present still with me ;

For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them and they with thee,
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eyes delight.


HOW careful was I, when I took my way
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust;
That to my use it might be unused stay
From hands of falshood, in sure wards of trust?
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief:
Thou best of dearest, and my only care,
Are left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not; tho' I feel thou art
Within the gentle closure of my breast,

From whence at pleasure thou may'st come and part;
And even thence thou wilt be stoln, I fear;

For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.



AGAINST that time (if ever that time come)
When I shall see thee frown on my defects:
When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
Call'd to that and it by advis'd respects:
Against that time, when thou shalt strangely pass,
And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye;
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity:
Against that time, do I insconce me here,
Within the knowledge of mine own desert;
And this my hand against myself up-rear,
To guard the lawful reasons on my part;

To leave poor me, thou hast the strength of laws,
Since why to love, I can alledge no cause.


IT was a lording's daughter,

The fairest one of three,

That liked of her master, as well as well might be :

Till looking on an Englishman,

The fairest eye could see,

Her fancy fell a turning,

Long was the combat doubtful,
That love with love did fight:


To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight;

To put in practice either,

Alas! it was a spite,

Unto the silly damsel.

But one must be refused,

More mickle was the pain?

That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain:

For of the two the trusty knight

Was wounded with disdain,

Alas! she could not help it.

Thus art with arms contending,

Was victor of the day;

Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away,

Then, lullably, the learned man

Hath got the lady gay--

For now my song is ended.


ON a day (alack the day)

Love, whose month was ever May,

Spy'd a blossom passing fair,

Playing in the wanton air.

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