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data/examples/dgrep/data/shakespeare/poetry/various

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+	THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM
+
+
+
+I.
+
+WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth,
+I do believe her, though I know she lies,
+That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
+Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.
+Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
+Although I know my years be past the best,
+I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
+Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
+But wherefore says my love that she is young?
+And wherefore say not I that I am old?
+O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue,
+And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
+Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with me,
+Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.
+
+
+II.
+
+Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
+That like two spirits do suggest me still;
+My better angel is a man right fair,
+My worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.
+To win me soon to hell, my female evil
+Tempteth my better angel from my side,
+And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
+Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
+And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
+Suspect I may, yet not directly tell:
+For being both to me, both to each friend,
+I guess one angel in another's hell;
+The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt,
+Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
+
+
+III.
+
+Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
+'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument,
+Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
+Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
+A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
+Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
+My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
+Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
+My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
+Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine,
+Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:
+If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
+If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
+To break an oath, to win a paradise?
+
+
+IV.
+
+Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook
+With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
+Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
+Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
+She told him stories to delight his ear;
+She showed him favors to allure his eye;
+To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there,--
+Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
+But whether unripe years did want conceit,
+Or he refused to take her figured proffer,
+The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
+But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
+Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward:
+He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward!
+
+
+V.
+
+If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
+O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd:
+Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove;
+Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bow'd.
+Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,
+Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend.
+If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
+Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
+All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
+Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
+Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful
+thunder,
+Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
+Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong,
+To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.
+
+
+VI.
+
+Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
+And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
+When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
+A longing tarriance for Adonis made
+Under an osier growing by a brook,
+A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen:
+Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
+For his approach, that often there had been.
+Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
+And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim:
+The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
+Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.
+He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood:
+'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood!'
+
+
+VII.
+
+Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
+Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
+Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle;
+Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
+A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,
+None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
+
+Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
+Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
+How many tales to please me hath she coined,
+Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
+Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
+Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
+
+She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth;
+She burn'd out love, as soon as straw outburneth;
+She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing;
+She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning.
+Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
+Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+If music and sweet poetry agree,
+As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
+Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
+Because thou lovest the one, and I the other.
+Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
+Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
+Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
+As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
+Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound
+That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes;
+And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
+When as himself to singing he betakes.
+One god is god of both, as poets feign;
+One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.
+
+
+IX.
+
+Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,
+[		   ]
+Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
+For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;
+Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
+Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
+She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,
+Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds:
+'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth
+Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,
+Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
+See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore.'
+She showed hers: he saw more wounds than one,
+And blushing fled, and left her all alone.
+
+
+X.
+
+Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,
+Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
+Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded!
+Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
+Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
+And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.
+
+I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
+For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
+And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
+For why I craved nothing of thee still:
+O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
+Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.
+
+
+XI.
+
+Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
+Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
+She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
+And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
+'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god embraced me,'
+And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
+'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god unlaced me,'
+As if the boy should use like loving charms;
+'Even thus,' quoth she, 'he seized on my lips,'
+And with her lips on his did act the seizure:
+And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
+And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
+Ah, that I had my lady at this bay,
+To kiss and clip me till I run away!
+
+
+XII.
+
+Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
+Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care;
+Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather;
+Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.
+Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short;
+Youth is nimble, age is lame;
+Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
+Youth is wild, and age is tame.
+Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee;
+O, my love, my love is young!
+Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
+For methinks thou stay'st too long,
+
+
+XIII.
+
+Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
+A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
+A flower that dies when first it gins to bud;
+A brittle glass that's broken presently:
+A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
+Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
+
+And as goods lost are seld or never found,
+As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
+As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,
+As broken glass no cement can redress,
+So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost,
+In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share:
+She bade good night that kept my rest away;
+And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
+To descant on the doubts of my decay.
+'Farewell,' quoth she, 'and come again tomorrow:'
+Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
+
+Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
+In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:
+'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
+'T may be, again to make me wander thither:
+'Wander,' a word for shadows like myself,
+As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.
+
+
+XV.
+
+Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
+My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
+Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
+Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
+While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
+And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
+
+For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
+And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
+The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;
+Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
+Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;
+For why, she sigh'd and bade me come tomorrow.
+
+Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
+But now are minutes added to the hours;
+To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
+Yet not for me, shine sun to succor flowers!
+Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow:
+Short, night, to-night, and length thyself tomorrow.
+
+
+
+	SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC
+
+
+XVI.
+
+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 fair'st that 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 practise 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, lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;
+For now my song is ended.
+
+
+XVII.
+
+On a day, alack the day!
+Love, whose month was ever May,
+Spied a blossom passing fair,
+Playing in the wanton air:
+Through the velvet leaves the wind
+All unseen, gan passage find;
+That the lover, sick to death,
+Wish'd himself the heaven's breath,
+'Air,' quoth he, 'thy cheeks may blow;
+Air, would I might triumph so!
+But, alas! my hand hath sworn
+Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
+Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
+Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
+Thou for whom Jove would swear
+Juno but an Ethiope were;
+And deny himself for Jove,
+Turning mortal for thy love.'
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+My flocks feed not,
+My ewes breed not,
+My rams speed not,
+All is amiss:
+Love's denying,
+Faith's defying,
+Heart's renying,
+Causer of this.
+All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
+All my lady's love is lost, God wot:
+Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
+There a nay is placed without remove.
+One silly cross
+Wrought all my loss;
+O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
+For now I see
+Inconstancy
+More in women than in men remain.
+In black mourn I,
+All fears scorn I,
+Love hath forlorn me,
+Living in thrall:
+Heart is bleeding,
+All help needing,
+O cruel speeding,
+Fraughted with gall.
+My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal;
+My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
+My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd
+Plays not at all, but seems afraid;
+My sighs so deep
+Procure to weep,
+In howling wise, to see my doleful plight.
+How sighs resound
+Through heartless ground,
+Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!
+Clear wells spring not,
+Sweet birds sing not,
+Green plants bring not
+Forth their dye;
+Herds stand weeping,
+Flocks all sleeping,
+Nymphs back peeping
+Fearfully:
+All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
+All our merry meetings on the plains,
+All our evening sport from us is fled,
+All our love is lost, for Love is dead
+Farewell, sweet lass,
+Thy like ne'er was
+For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan:
+Poor Corydon
+Must live alone;
+Other help for him I see that there is none.
+
+
+XIX.
+
+When as thine eye hath chose the dame,
+And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike,
+Let reason rule things worthy blame,
+As well as fancy partial might:
+Take counsel of some wiser head,
+Neither too young nor yet unwed.
+
+And when thou comest thy tale to tell,
+Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
+Lest she some subtle practise smell,--
+A cripple soon can find a halt;--
+But plainly say thou lovest her well,
+
+And set thy person forth to sell.
+What though her frowning brows be bent,
+Her cloudy looks will calm ere night:
+And then too late she will repent
+That thus dissembled her delight;
+And twice desire, ere it be day,
+That which with scorn she put away.
+
+What though she strive to try her strength,
+And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
+Her feeble force will yield at length,
+When craft hath taught her thus to say,
+'Had women been so strong as men,
+In faith, you had not had it then.'
+
+And to her will frame all thy ways;
+Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
+Where thy desert may merit praise,
+By ringing in thy lady's ear:
+The strongest castle, tower, and town,
+The golden bullet beats it down.
+
+Serve always with assured trust,
+And in thy suit be humble true;
+Unless thy lady prove unjust,
+Press never thou to choose anew:
+When time shall serve, be thou not slack
+To proffer, though she put thee back.
+
+The wiles and guiles that women work,
+Dissembled with an outward show,
+The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
+The cock that treads them shall not know.
+Have you not heard it said full oft,
+A woman's nay doth stand for nought?
+
+Think women still to strive with men,
+To sin and never for to saint:
+There is no heaven, by holy then,
+When time with age doth them attaint.
+Were kisses all the joys in bed,
+One woman would another wed.
+
+But, soft! enough, too much, I fear
+Lest that my mistress hear my song,
+She will not stick to round me i' the ear,
+To teach my tongue to be so long:
+Yet will she blush, here be it said,
+To hear her secrets so bewray'd.
+
+
+XX.
+
+Live with me, and be my love,
+And we will all the pleasures prove
+That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
+And all the craggy mountains yields.
+
+There will we sit upon the rocks,
+And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
+By shallow rivers, by whose falls
+Melodious birds sing madrigals.
+
+There will I make thee a bed of roses,
+With a thousand fragrant posies,
+A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
+Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
+
+A belt of straw and ivy buds,
+With coral clasps and amber studs;
+And if these pleasures may thee move,
+Then live with me and be my love.
+
+
+LOVE'S ANSWER.
+
+If that 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.
+
+
+XXI.
+
+As it fell upon a day
+In the merry month of May,
+Sitting in a pleasant shade
+Which a grove of myrtles made,
+Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
+Trees did grow, and plants did spring;
+Every thing did banish moan,
+Save the nightingale alone:
+She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
+Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
+And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
+That to hear it was great pity:
+'Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry;
+'Tereu, tereu!' by and by;
+That to hear her so complain,
+Scarce I could from tears refrain;
+For her griefs, so lively shown,
+Made me think upon mine own.
+Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain!
+None takes pity on thy pain:
+Senseless trees they cannot hear thee;
+Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
+King Pandion he is dead;
+All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
+All thy fellow birds do sing,
+Careless of thy sorrowing.
+Even so, poor bird, like thee,
+None alive will pity me.
+Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,
+Thou and I were both beguiled.
+Every one that flatters thee
+Is no friend in misery.
+Words are easy, like the wind;
+Faithful friends are hard to find:
+Every man will be thy friend
+Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
+But if store of crowns be scant,
+No man will supply thy want.
+If that one be prodigal,
+Bountiful they will him call,
+And with such-like flattering,
+'Pity but he were a king;'
+If he be addict to vice,
+Quickly him they will entice;
+If to women he be bent,
+They have at commandement:
+But if Fortune once do frown,
+Then farewell his great renown
+They that fawn'd on him before
+Use his company no more.
+He that is thy friend indeed,
+He will help thee in thy need:
+If thou sorrow, he will weep;
+If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
+Thus of every grief in heart
+He with thee doth bear a part.
+These are certain signs to know
+Faithful friend from flattering foe.
+
+
+
+
+	THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE
+
+
+
+	LET the bird of loudest lay,
+	On the sole Arabian tree,
+	Herald sad and trumpet be,
+	To whose sound chaste wings obey.
+
+	But thou shrieking harbinger,
+	Foul precurrer of the fiend,
+	Augur of the fever's end,
+	To this troop come thou not near!
+
+	From this session interdict
+	Every fowl of tyrant wing,
+	Save the eagle, feather'd king:
+	Keep the obsequy so strict.
+
+	Let the priest in surplice white,
+	That defunctive music can,
+	Be the death-divining swan,
+	Lest the requiem lack his right.
+
+	And thou treble-dated crow,
+	That thy sable gender makest
+	With the breath thou givest and takest,
+	'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
+
+	Here the anthem doth commence:
+	Love and constancy is dead;
+	Phoenix and the turtle fled
+	In a mutual flame from hence.
+
+	So they loved, as love in twain
+	Had the essence but in one;
+	Two distincts, division none:
+	Number there in love was slain.
+
+	Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
+	Distance, and no space was seen
+	'Twixt the turtle and his queen:
+	But in them it were a wonder.
+
+	So between them love did shine,
+	That the turtle saw his right
+	Flaming in the phoenix' sight;
+	Either was the other's mine.
+
+	Property was thus appalled,
+	That the self was not the same;
+	Single nature's double name
+	Neither two nor one was called.
+
+	Reason, in itself confounded,
+	Saw division grow together,
+	To themselves yet either neither,
+	Simple were so well compounded,
+
+	That it cried, How true a twain
+	Seemeth this concordant one!
+	Love hath reason, reason none,
+	If what parts can so remain.
+
+	Whereupon it made this threne
+	To the phoenix and the dove,
+	Co-supremes and stars of love,
+	As chorus to their tragic scene.
+
+	THRENOS.
+
+	Beauty, truth, and rarity,
+	Grace in all simplicity,
+	Here enclosed in cinders lie.
+
+	Death is now the phoenix' nest
+	And the turtle's loyal breast
+	To eternity doth rest,
+
+	Leaving no posterity:
+	'Twas not their infirmity,
+	It was married chastity.
+
+	Truth may seem, but cannot be:
+	Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
+	Truth and beauty buried be.
+
+	To this urn let those repair
+	That are either true or fair
+	For these dead birds sigh a prayer.