Were every thought an eye, and all those eyes could see;
Her subtle wiles, their sights would beguile and mock their jealousy!
Desire lives in her heart, Diana in her eyes!
'Twere vain, to wish women true! 'tis well, if they prove wise!
Such a love deserves more grace,
Than a truer heart that hath no conceit
To make use both of time and place,
When a wit had need of all his slight.
Her fires do inward burn, but make no outward show!
And her delights, amid the dark shades, which none discover, grow!
The flower's growth is unseen, yet every day it grows!
So where her Fancy is set, it grows! but how, none knows.
Such a love deserves more grace,
Than a truer heart, that hath not conceit
To make use both of time and place,
When a wit had need of all his slight.
Stay Time, awhile, thy flying!
Stay, and pity me dying!
For Fates and friends have left me,
And of comfort bereft me.
Come! come, close mine eyes! Better to die blessed,
Than to live thus distressed!
To whom shall I complain me,
When thus friends do disdain me?
'Tis Time that must befriend me!
Drowned in sorrow to end me.
Come! come, close mine eyes! Better to die blessed,
Than to live thus distressed!
Tears but augment this fuel.
I feed by night (O cruel!).
Light griefs can speak their pleasure.
Mine are dumb, passing measure!
Quick! quick, close mine eyes! Better to die blessed,
Than here to live distressed!
Tell me, True Love! where shall I seek thy being?
In thoughts or words, in vows or promise making?
In reasons, looks, or Passions never seeing?
In men on earth, or women's minds partaking?
Thou canst not die! and therefore, living, tell me,
Where is thy seat? Why doth this Age expel thee?