And first the sound and virtue of my name
Won grace and credit in the ears of men,
With those the thronged theatres that press
I in the circuit for the laurel strove,
Where the full praise, I freely must confess,
In heat of blood a modest mind might move,
With shouts and claps at every little pause
When the proud round on every side hath rung,
Sadly I sit, unmov’d with the applause,
As though to me it nothing did belong.
No public glory vainly I pursue;
All that I seek is to eternize you.
When I do speak of miracles by thee,May say, that thou art flattered by me,Who only write my skill in verse to prove.See miracles, ye unbelieving, seeA dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind,A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind,One by thy name, the other touching thee;Blind were mine eyes, till they were seen…
There was a time you told me that you would;But now again you will the same deny,If it might please you, would to God you could.What, will you hate? Nay, that you will not, neither.Nor love nor hate, how then? What will you do?What, will you keep a mean then betwixt either,Or will you love…
Through many a gate, o’er many a stile,That now had gotten by this wile,Her dear Pigwiggen kissing;And tell how Oberon doth fare,Who grew as mad as any hare,When he had sought each place with care,And found his queen was missing.By grisly Pluto he doth swear,He rent his clothes, and tore his hair,And as he runneth…
Or have thine eyes such magic or that artThat what they get they ever do retain?Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse;Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity’s sake;Or, cruel, if thou canst not, let us ‘scourse,And, for one piece of thine, my whole heart take.But what of pity do I speak to thee,Whose…
Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings,Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet.Where I to thee eternity shall give,When nothing else remaineth of these days,And Queens hereafter shall be glad to liveUpon the alms of thy superfluous praise.Virgins and matrons, reading these my rhymes,Shall be so much delighted with thy storyThat they shall grieve…
Metals do waste and fret with canker’s rust,The diamond shall once consume to dust,And freshest colors with foul stains disgrac’d;Paper and ink can paint but naked words,To write with blood of force offends the sight;And if with tears I find them all too light,And sighs and signs a silly hope affotds,O sweetest shadow, how thou…
