But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free;
For thou art covetous, and he is kind:
He learn'd but, surety-like, to write for me,
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,"
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in Will, add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.60
* This and the next go with the CXLIII. in a little poem playing on the author's name. In our numbering, they follow the cxx. 59 Statute has here its legal signification; that of a security or obligation for money. - MALONE.
60 In this Sonnet and the next, we print the Wills just as they stand in the original. Of course this is a play on the Poet's name William.
If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far, for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove;
Among a number one is reckon'd none.
Then, in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy stores' account I one must be ;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing, me, a something sweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lov'st me, - - for my name is Will.
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot,"
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
place?
* This and the next are placed in continuation of the CXXIX., in the series of ten entitled "Love and Hatred."
61 Several allusions have been found to this way of reckoning See Romeo and Juliet, Act i. sc. 2, note 5.
62 "A several plot," as distinguished from a "common place,' is a piece of ground that has been separated and made private property. A similar play upon several and common is explained in Love's Labour's Lost. Act ii. sc. 1. note 7.
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd, And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
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,
Unlearned in the world's false subtilties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue :
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love's best habit is in seeming-trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told·
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.°3
O! call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside :
*This and the next are grouped with the CXLIX. in a set of Ahree, to be headed "Tyranny." In our numbering, they come next after the XXI.
63 This Sonnet, with some variations, was first printed in The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599, and afterwards included in the collec tion of Sonnets.
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy
Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can 'bide ?
Let me excuse thee: Ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies ;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain,
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know.
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
This and the next are set in continuation of the CXXXVIII. in the series of ten on "Love and Hatred," beginning with the
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits, nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee;
Who leave unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
O! but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments,
And seal'd false bonds of love, as oft as mine
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be't lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example may'st thou be denied!
64 The Poet elsewhere implies the same distinction of the five wits and the five senses. See Much Ado about Nothing, Act i Bc. 1, note 8.
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