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CXLVII. My love is as a fever longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve, Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are, At random from the truth vainly express'd; For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee
bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
eye is not so true as all men's : no, How can it ? O how can Love's
77 censures] i. e. estimates.
That is so vexed with watching and with tears ? No marvel then though I mistake my view; The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears.
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind.
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might,
78 partake) i. e. take part.
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,
Love is too young to know what conscience is :
No want of conscience hold it that I call
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
79 amiss) i. e. fault.
In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,
For I have sworn thee fair: more perjur'd I, To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie !
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep:
love's brand new-fir'd, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; I sick withal, the help of bath desir'a, And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,
But found no cure; the bath for my help lies Where Cupid got new fire; my
mistress' eyes. CLIV. The little love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to
keep, Came tripping by ; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d: And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.