Term
| Sir Thomas Wyatt "They Flee From Me" |
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Definition
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.
Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once in special,
In thin array after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small;
And therewithal sweetly did me kiss
And softly said, "dear heart, how like you this?"
It was no dream: I lay broad waking.
But all is turned thorough my gentleness
Into a strange fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also, to use newfangleness.
But since that I so kindly am served
I would fain know what she hath deserved. |
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Term
| Sir Thomas Wyatt "Farewell Love" |
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Definition
Farewell, Love, and all thy laws for ever:
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore,
To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavour.
In blind error when I did persever,
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,
Hath taught me to set in trifles no store,
And scape forth, since liberty is lever.
Therefore farewell, go trouble younger hearts,
And in me claim no more authority;
With idle youth go use thy property,
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts.
For, hitherto though I've lost my time,
Me lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb. |
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Term
| Sir Thomas Wyatt "Madam, Withouten so Many Words," |
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Definition
Madam, withouten many words
Once I am sure ye will or no;
And if ye will, then leave your bords
And use your wit and show it so,
And with a beck ye shall me call;
And if of one that burneth alway
Ye have any pity at all,
Answer him fair with yea or nay.
If it be yea I shall be fain;
If it be nay, friends as before;
Ye shall another man obtain,
And I mine own and yours no more. |
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Term
| Sir Thomas Wyatt "Whoso List to Hunt" |
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Definition
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, alas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame. |
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Term
| George Gascoigne, "Woodmanship" |
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Definition
My worthy Lord, I pray you wonder not
To see your woodman shoot so oft awry,
Nor that he stands amaze`d like a sot, confused / fool
And lets the harmless deer unhurt go by.
5 Or if he strike a doe which is but carren,3
Laugh not good Lord, but favor such a fault,
Take will in worth,4 he would fain hit the barren,
But though his heart be good, his hap is naught. luck
And therefore now I crave your Lordship’s leave,
10 To tell you plain what is the cause of this.
First, if it please your honor to perceive
What makes your woodman shoot so oft amiss,
Believe me, Lord, the case is nothing strange:
He shoots awry almost at every mark,
15 His eyes have been so use`d for to range,
That now God knows they be both dim and dark.
For proof he bears the note of folly now, mark
Who shot sometimes to hit Philosophy,5
And ask you why? forsooth I make avow,
20 Because his wanton wits went all awry.
Next that, he shot to be a man of law,
And spent some time with learne`d Littleton,6
Yet in the end he prove`d but a daw, jackdaw, i.e., fool
For law was dark and he had quickly done. obscure
25 Then could he wish Fitzherbert such a brain
As Tully7 had, to write the law by art,
So that with pleasure, or with little pain,
He might perhaps have caught a truant’s part.been able to play truant
But all too late, he most misliked the thing
30 Which most might help to guide his arrow straight;
He winke`d8 wrong, and so let slip the string,
4 / George Gascoigne
9. I.e., he next attempted to become a courtier.
1. I.e., money—from “Peter’s pence,” a tax formerly
levied by the Roman church.
2. I.e., fighting in the Low Countries.
Which cast him wide, for all his quaint conceit. clever thought
From thence he shot to catch a courtly grace,9
And thought even there to wield the world at will,
35 But, out alas, he much mistook the place,
And shot awry at every rover still. random mark
The blazing baits which draw the gazing eye
Unfeathered there his first affectio¨n; inclination
No wonder then although he shot awry, that
40 Wanting the feathers of discretio¨n. not having
Yet more than them, the marks of dignity
He much mistook, and shot the wronger way,
Thinking the purse of prodigality
Had been best mean to purchase such a prey.
45 He thought the flattering face which fleereth still, always smiles
Had been full fraught with all fidelity,
And that such words as courtiers use at will
Could not have varied from the verity.
But when his bonnet buttone`d with gold,
50 His comely cap beguarded all with gay, ornamented
His bombast hose, with linings manifold, stuffed
His knit silk stocks and all his quaint array, stockings
Had picked his purse of all the Peter-pence,1
Which might have paid for his promotio¨n,
55 Then (all too late) he found that light expense careless
Had quite quenched out the court’s devotio¨n.
So that since then the taste of misery
Hath been always full bitter in his bit, i.e., in his mouth
And why? forsooth because he shot awry,
60 Mistaking still the marks which others hit.
But now behold what mark the man doth find:
He shoots to be a soldier in his age;
Mistrusting all the virtues of the mind,
He trusts the power of his personage.
65 As though long limbs led by a lusty heart
Might yet suffice to make him rich again;
But Flushing frays2 have taught him such a part
That now he thinks the wars yield no such gain.
And sure I fear, unless your lordship deign
70 To train him yet into some better trade,
It will be long before he hit the vein
Whereby he may a richer man be made.
He cannot climb as other catchers can, huntsmen
To lead a charge before himself be led.
75 He cannot spoil the simple sakeless man, despoil / poor innocent
Which is content to feed him with his bread.
He cannot pinch the painful soldier’s pay, stint
And shear him out his share in ragged sheets, dole
He cannot stoop to take a greedy prey
80 Upon his fellows groveling in the streets.
He cannot pull the spoil from such as pill, pillage
Woodmanship / 5
3. The unlucky alignment of planets at my birth.
4. I.e., the rule of moderation. Aristotle regarded each virtue as the mean between two extremes.
And seem full angry at such foul offense,
Although the gain content his greedy will,
Under the cloak of contrary pretence:
85 And nowadays, the man that shoots not so,
May shoot amiss, even as your woodman doth:
But then you marvel why I let them go,
And never shoot, but say farewell forsooth:
Alas, my Lord, while I do muse hereon,
90 And call to mind my youthful years misspent,
They give me such a bone to gnaw upon,
That all my senses are in silence pent.
My mind is rapt in contemplatio¨n,
Wherein my dazzled eyes only behold
95 The black hour of my constellatio¨n3
Which frame`d me so luckless on the mold. on earth
Yet therewithal I cannot but confess,
That vain presumption makes my heart to swell,
For thus I think, not all the world (I guess)
100 Shoots bet than I, nay some shoots not so well.
In Aristotle somewhat did I learn,
To guide my manners all by comeliness, behavior / decency
And Tully taught me somewhat to discern
Between sweet speech and barbarous rudeness.
105 Old Parkins, Rastell, and Dan Bracton’s books authors of law books
Did lend me somewhat of the lawless law;
The crafty courtiers with their guileful looks
Must needs put some experience in my maw: stomach
Yet cannot these with many mast’ries moe many more skills
110 Make me shoot straight at any gainful prick, bull’s-eye
Where some that never handled such a bow
Can hit the white or touch it near the quick,
Who can nor speak nor write in pleasant wise,
Nor lead their life by Aristotle’s rule,4
115 Nor argue well on questions that arise,
Nor plead a case more than my lord mayor’s mule,
Yet can they hit the marks that I do miss,
And win the mean which may the man maintain. means
Now when my mind doth mumble upon this,
120 No wonder then although I pine for pain:
And whiles mine eyes behold this mirror thus,
The herd goeth by, and farewell gentle does:
So that your lordship quickly may discuss declare
What blinds mine eyes so oft (as I suppose).
125 But since my Muse can to my Lord rehearse relate
What makes me miss, and why I do not shoot,
Let me imagine in this worthless verse,
If right before me, at my standing’s foot hunter’s station
There stood a doe, and I should strike her dead,
130 And then she prove a carrion carcass too,
What figure might I find within my head,
6 / George Gascoigne
5. “Even though struck down, I have not learned
wisdom.”
1. Rejected.
2. Because.
3. Boast.
4. Cooped up.
To scuse the rage which ruled me so to do?
Some might interpret with plain paraphrase,
That lack of skill or fortune led the chance,
135 But I must otherwise expound the case;
I say Jehovah did this doe advance,
And made her bold to stand before me so,
Till I had thrust mine arrow to her heart,
That by the sudden of her overthrow suddenness
140 I might endeavor to amend my part
And turn mine eyes that they no more behold
Such guileful marks as seem more than they be:
And though they glister outwardly like gold, glisten
Are inwardly like brass, as men may see:
145 And when I see the milk hang in her teat,
Methinks it saith, old babe, now learn to suck,
Who in thy youth couldst never learn the feat
To hit the whites which live with all good luck.
Thus have I told my Lord (God grant in season)
150 A tedious tale in rhyme, but little reason.
Haud ictus sapio.5
1573
Farewell with a Mischief
written by a lover being disdainfully abjected1 by a dame of high calling,
who had chosen (in his place) a playfellow of baser condition: & therefore
he determined to step aside, and before his departure giveth her this
farewell in verse
Thy birth, thy beauty, nor thy brave attire,
(Disdainful Dame, which doest me double wrong)
Thy high estate, which sets thy heart on fire,
Or new found choice, which cannot serve thee long
5 Shall make me dread, with pen for to rehearse,
Thy skittish deeds, in this my parting verse.
For why2 thou knowest, and I myself can tell,
By many vows, how thou to me wert bound:
And how for joy, thy heart did seem to swell,
10 And in delight how thy desires were drowned.
When of thy will the walls I did assail,
Wherein fond fancy fought for mine avail.
And though my mind have small delight to vaunt,3
Yet must I vow my heart to thee was true:
15 My hand was always able for to daunt
Thy slandrous foes and keep their tongues in mew.4
Farewell with a Mischief / 7
5. Prized, esteemed highly.
6. A favorite who is also a servile dependent.
7. Companion.
8. Primp.
9. Might.
1. Starve.
2. Things that are scorned still live.
My head (though dull) was yet of such device,
As might have kept thy name always in price.5
And for the rest my body was not brave,
20 But able yet, of substance to allay
Thy raging lust, wherein thy limbs did rave,
And quench the coals which kindled thee to play.
Such one I was, and such always will be,
For worthy Dames, but then I mean not thee.
25 For thou hast caught a proper paragon,
A thief, a coward, and a Peacock fool:
An Ass, a milksop, and a minion,6
Which hath no oil thy furious flames to cool;
Such one he is, a fere7 for thee most fit,
30 A wand’ring guest, to please thy wavering wit.
A thief I count him for he robs us both,
Thee of thy name, and me of my delight:
A coward is he noted where he goeth,
Since every child is match to him in might.
35 And for his pride no more, but mark his plumes,
The which to prink8 he days and nights consumes.
The rest thyself in secret sort can judge,
He rides not me, thou knowest his saddle best:
And though these tricks of thine mought9 make me grudge,
40 And kindle wrath in my revenging breast,
Yet of myself, and not to please thy mind,
I stand content my rage in rule to bind.
And far from thee now must I take my flight,
Where tongues may tell (and I not see) thy fall:
45 Where I may drink these drugs of thy despite,
To purge my Melancholic mind withall.
In secret so, my stomach will I sterve,1
Wishing thee better than thou dost deserve.
Spraeta tamen vivunt2
1573 |
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Term
| Christopher Marlowe, "The Passionate Shepherd" |
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Definition
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love. |
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Term
| Sir Walter Ralegh, "The Nymph's Reply" |
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Definition
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall,
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten--
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral claps and somber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love. |
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Term
| Sir Walter Ralegh, "Nature that Washed Her Hands in Milk" |
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Definition
Nature, that washed her hands in milk,
And had forgot to dry them,
Instead of earth took snow and silk,
At love's request to try them,
If she a mistress could compose
To please love's fancy out of those.
Her eyes he would should be of light,
A violet breath, and lips of jelly;
Her hair not black, nor overbright,
And of the softest down her belly;
As for her inside he'd have it
Only of wantonness and wit.
At love's entreaty such a one
Nature made, but with her beauty
She hath framed a heart of stone;
So as Love, by ill destiny,
Must die for her whom nature gave him
Because her darling would not save him.
But time, which nature doth despise
And rudely gives her love the lie,
Makes hope a fool, and sorrow wise,
His hands do neither wash nor dry;
But being made of steel and rust,
Turns snow and silk and milk to dust.
The light, the belly, lips, and breath,
He dims, discolors, and destroys;
With those he feeds but fills not death,
Which sometimes were the food of joys.
Yea, time doth dull each lively wit,
And dries all wantonness with it.
Oh, cruel time, which takes in trust
Our youth, or joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days. |
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Term
| Sir Walter Ralegh "The Author's Epitaph" |
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Definition
Even such is time, which takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust,
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days,
And from which earth, and grave, and dust
The Lord will raise me up, I trust. |
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Term
| Ben Jonson "To Penshurst" |
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Definition
Thou art not, PENSHURST, built to envious show
Of touch, or marble ; nor canst boast a row
Of polish'd pillars, or a roof of gold :
Thou hast no lantern whereof tales are told ;
Or stair, or courts ; but stand'st an ancient pile,
And these grudg'd at, art reverenced the while.
Thou joy'st in better marks, of soil, of air,
Of wood, of water ; therein thou art fair.
Thou hast thy walks for health, as well as sport :
Thy mount, to which thy Dryads do resort, 10
Where Pan and Bacchus their high feasts have made,
Beneath the broad beech, and the chestnut shade ;
That taller tree, which of a nut was set,
At his great birth, where all the Muses met.
There, in the writhed bark, are cut the names
Of many a sylvan, taken with his flames ;
And thence the ruddy satyrs oft provoke
The lighter fauns, to reach thy lady's oak.
Thy copse too, named of Gamage, thou hast there,
That never fails to serve thee season'd deer, 20
When thou wouldst feast or exercise thy friends.
The lower land, that to the river bends,
Thy sheep, thy bullocks, kine, and calves do feed ;
The middle grounds thy mares and horses breed.
Each bank doth yield thee conies ; and the tops
Fertile of wood, Ashore and Sydneys copp's,
To crown thy open table, doth provide
The purpled pheasant, with the speckled side :
The painted partridge lies in ev'ry field,
And for thy mess is willing to be kill'd. 30
And if the high-swoln Medway fail thy dish,
Thou hast thy ponds, that pay thee tribute fish,
Fat aged carps that run into thy net,
And pikes, now weary their own kind to eat,
As loth the second draught or cast to stay,
Officiously at first themselves betray.
Bright eels that emulate them, and leap on land,
Before the fisher, or into his hand,
Then hath thy orchard fruit, thy garden flowers,
Fresh as the air, and new as are the hours. 40
The early cherry, with the later plum,
Fig, grape, and quince, each in his time doth come :
The blushing apricot, and woolly peach
Hang on thy walls, that every child may reach.
And though thy walls be of the country stone,
They're rear'd with no man's ruin, no man's groan ;
There's none, that dwell about them, wish them down ;
But all come in, the farmer and the clown ;
And no one empty-handed, to salute
Thy lord and lady, though they have no suit. 50
Some bring a capon, some a rural cake,
Some nuts, some apples ; some that think they make
The better cheeses, bring them ; or else send
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
This way to husbands ; and whose baskets bear
An emblem of themselves in plum, or pear.
But what can this (more than express their love)
Add to thy free provisions, far above
The need of such ? whose liberal board doth flow
With all that hospitality doth know ! 60
Where comes no guest, but is allow'd to eat,
Without his fear, and of thy lord's own meat :
Where the same beer and bread, and self-same wine,
That is his lordship's, shall be also mine.
And I not fain to sit (as some this day,
At great men's tables) and yet dine away.
Here no man tells my cups ; nor standing by,
A waiter, doth my gluttony envý :
But gives me what I call, and lets me eat,
He knows, below, he shall find plenty of meat ; 70
Thy tables hoard not up for the next day,
Nor, when I take my lodging, need I pray
For fire, or lights, or livery ; all is there ;
As if thou then wert mine, or I reign'd here :
There's nothing I can wish, for which I stay.
That found King JAMES, when hunting late, this way,
With his brave son, the prince ; they saw thy fires
Shine bright on every hearth, as the desires
Of thy Penates had been set on flame,
To entertain them ; or the country came, 80
With all their zeal, to warm their welcome here.
What (great, I will not say, but) sudden chear
Didst thou then make 'em ! and what praise was heap'd
On thy good lady, then ! who therein reap'd
The just reward of her high huswifry ;
To have her linen, plate, and all things nigh,
When she was far ; and not a room, but drest,
As if it had expected such a guest !
These, Penshurst, are thy praise, and yet not all.
Thy lady's noble, fruitful, chaste withal. 90
His children thy great lord may call his own ;
A fortune, in this age, but rarely known.
They are, and have been taught religion ; thence
Their gentler spirits have suck'd innocence.
Each morn, and even, they are taught to pray,
With the whole household, and may, every day,
Read in their virtuous parents' noble parts,
The mysteries of manners, arms, and arts.
Now, Penshurst, they that will proportion thee
With other edifices, when they see 100
Those proud ambitious heaps, and nothing else,
May say, their lords have built, but thy lord dwells. |
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Term
| Ben Jonson "On Inviting a Friend to Supper" |
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Definition
TO-NIGHT, grave sir, both my poore house, and I
Doe equally desire your companie :
Not that we thinke us worthy such a guest,
But that your worth will dignifie our feast,
With those that come ; whose grace may make that seeme
Something, which, else, could hope for no esteeme.
It is the faire acceptance, Sir, creates
The entertaynment perfect : not the cates.
Yet shall you have, to rectifie your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better sallad
Ushring the mutton ; with a short-leg'd hen,
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,
Limons, and wine for sauce : to these, a coney
Is not to be despair'd of, for our money ;
And, though fowle, now, be scarce, yet there are clerkes,
The skie not falling, thinke we may have larkes.
I'll tell you of more, and lye, so you will come :
Of partrich, pheasant, wood-cock, of which some
May yet be there ; and godwit, if we can :
Knat, raile, and ruffe too. How so e'er, my man
Shall reade a piece of VIRGIL, TACITUS,
LIVIE, or of some better booke to us,
Of which wee'll speake our minds, amidst our meate ;
And I'll professe no verses to repeate :
To this, if ought appeare, which I know not of,
That will the pastrie, not my paper, show of.
Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will bee;
But that, which most doth take my Muse, and mee,
Is a pure cup of rich Canary-wine,
Which is the Mermaids, now, but shall be mine :
Of which had HORACE, or ANACREON tasted,
Their lives, as doe their lines, till now had lasted.
Tabacco, Nectar, or the Thespian spring,
Are all but LUTHERS beere, to this I sing.
Of this we will sup free, but moderately,
And we will have no Pooly, or Parrot by ;
Nor shall our cups make any guiltie men :
But, at our parting, we will be, as when
We innocently met. No simple word
That shall be utter'd at our mirthfull board
Shall make us sad next morning : or affright
The libertie, that wee'll enjoy to-night. |
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Term
| Ben Johnson "My Picture Left in Scotland" |
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Definition
I now think, Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be,
That she
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me,
And cast my suit behind :
I'm sure my language to her was as sweet,
And every close did meet
In sentence of as subtil feet,
As hath the youngest he
That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree.
Oh ! but my conscious fears,
That fly my thoughts between,
Tell me that she hath seen
My hundreds of gray hairs
Told seven and forty years,
Read so much waste as she cannot embrace
My mountain belly and my rocky face,
And all these, through her eyes, have stopt her ears. |
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Term
| Ben Jonson "Still to be Neat" |
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Definition
Still to be neat,
still to be dressed,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes losely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes but not my heart. |
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Term
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Definition
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'. |
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Term
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Definition
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. |
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Term
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Definition
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. |
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Term
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Definition
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee. |
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Term
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Definition
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."
She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere. |
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