|
| Those like so many spheares, but one heaven make, |
| For they are all concentrique unto thee, |
| And though each spring do adde to love new heat, |
| As Princes do in times of action get |
| New taxes, and remit them not in peace, |
| No winter shall abate this springs encrease. |
|
| Loves Exchange. |
|
| Love, any devil else but you, |
| Would for a given Soul give something too, |
| At Court your fellows every day, |
| Give th'art of Riming. Huntsmanship or play, |
| For them which were their own before; |
| Onely I have nothing, which gave more, |
| But am, alas, by being lowly lower. |
|
| I ask no dispensation now |
| To falsifie a tear, a sigh, a vow, |
| I do not sue from thee to draw |
| A Non obstante on natures law, |
| These are prerogatives, they inhere |
| In thee and thine; none should forswear |
| Except that he Loves Minion were. |
|
| Give me thy weakness, make me blind, |
| Both wayes, as thou and thine, in eyes and minde; |
| Love let me never know that this |
| Is love, or that love childish is. |
| Let me not know that others know |
| That she knows my paines, least that so |
| A tender shame make me mine own woe.
|
[CW: If] |