Properties
- end_line
- 13044
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:48.293Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 12928
- text
- Cries to catch her whofe bufie care is bent,
To follow that which flies before her face:
Not prizing her poore infants discontent;
So runft thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilft I thy babe chace thee a farre behind,
But if thou catch thy hope tufne back to me:
And play the mothers part kiffe me, be kind.
So will I pray that thou mai’ft haue thy Will,
If thou turne back and my loude crying ftill.
## 144
T’Wo loues I haue of comfort and difpaire;
Which like two spirits do fugieft me ftill,
The better angell is a man right faire:
The worfer spirit a woman collour’d il.
To win me foone to hell my femall euill,
Tempteth
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# SONNETS.
Tempteth my better angel from my fight,
And would corrupt my faint to be a diuel:
Wooing his purity with her fowle pride.
And whether that my angel be turn’d finde,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,
But being both from me both to each friend,
I geffe one angel in an others hel.
Yet this fhal I nere know but liue in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
145
Those lips that Louis owne hand did make,
Breath’d forth the found that said I hate,
To me that languifht for her fake:
But when fhe faw my wofull ftate,
Straight in her heart did mercie come,
Chiding that tongue that euer fweer,
Was vfde in giuing gentle dome:
And tought it thus a new to greete:
I hate fhe altered with an end,
That follow’d it as gentle day,
Doth follow night who like a fiend
From hesuen to hell is flowne away.
I hate, from hate away fhe threw,
And fau’d my life faying not you.
146
Doore foule the center of my finfull earth,
My finfull earth thefe rebbell powres that thee array,
Why doft thou pine within and fuffer dearth;
Painting thy outward walls fo coftlie gay?
Why fo large coft hauing fo fhort a leafe,
Doft thou vpon thy fading mansion fpend?
Shall wormes inheritors of this excese,
Eate vp thy charge? is this thy bodies end?
Then foule liue thou vpon thy feruants loffe,
And let that pine to aggrauat thy ftore;
Buy teaznes divine in felling houres of droffe:
13 Within
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# SHAKESPEARES
Within be fed, without be rich no more,
So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
And death once dead, there’s no more dying then.
147
My loue is as a feauer longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’vnecretaine sicklie appetite to please:
My reason the Phission to my loue,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire is death, which Phisick did except,
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantick madde with euer-more vneft,
My thoughts and my discourse as mad mens are,
At randon from the truth vainely expreft,
For I haue sworne thee faire, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as darke as night.
148
O Me! what eyes hath loue put in my head,
Which haue no correspondence with true sight,
Or if they haue, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be faire whereon my false eyes dote,
What meanes the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then loue doth well denote,
Loues eye is not so true as all measmo,
How can it? O how can loues eye be true,
That is so vext with watching and with teares?
No maruaile then though I mistake my view,
The sunne it felse sees not, till heauen cleeres,
O cunning loue, with teares thou keepst me blinde,
Least eyes well seeing thy foule faults should finde.
149
C Anst thou O cruell, say I loue thee not,
When I against my felse with thee pertake:
Doe
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# SONNETS
- title
- Chunk 6