Lascivi quaeres fuerit cur carminis autor:Carmine lascivus, mente pudicus erat.
Lascivi quaeres fuerit cur carminis autor:Carmine lascivus, mente pudicus erat.
True are my thoughts, my thoughts that are untrue,Blind are my eyes, my eyes that are not blind,New is my love, my love that is not new,Kind is that fair, that fair that is not kind.Thus eyes and thoughts, that fairest fair, my love,Blind and untrue, unkind, unconstant prove.True are my thoughts because they never flit,Untrue my thoughts because they me betrayed;Blind are my eyes because in clouds I sit,Not blind my eyes because I looks obeyed.Thus eyes and thoughts, my dearest fair may viewIn sight, in love, not blind, nor yet untrue.New is my love because it never dies,Old is my love because it ever lives;Kind is that fair because it hate denies,Unkind that fair because no hope it gives.Thus new my love, and still that fair unkind,Renews my love, and I no favour find.Sweet are my dreams, my dreams that are not sweet,Long are the nights, the nights that are not long,Meet are the pangs, these pangs that are unmeet,Wronged is my heart, my heart that hath no wrong.Thus dreams, and night, my heart, my pangs, and allIn taste, in length, conspire to work my fall.Sweet are my dreams because my love they show,Unsweet my dreams because but dreams they are;Long are the nights because no help I know,Meet are the nights because they end my care.Thus dreams and nights wherein my love take sport,Are sweet, unsweet, are long, and yet too short.Meet are my pangs because I was too bold,Unmeet my pangs because I loved so well;Wronged was my heart because my grief it told,Not wronged. For why? My grief it could not tell.Thus you my love unkindly cause this smart,That will not love to ease my pangs and heart.Proud is her look, her look that is not proud,Done all my days, my days that are not done,Loud are my sighs, my sighs that are not loud,Begun my death, my death not yet begun.Thus looks and days and sighs and death might moveSo kind, so fair, to give consent to love.Proud is her look because she scorns to see,Not proud her look for none dare say so much;Done are my days because they hapless be,Not done my days because I wish them such.Thus looks and days increase this loving strife.Not proud, nor done, nor dead, nor giving life.Loud are my sighs because they pierce the sky,Not loud my sighs because they are not heard;My death begun because I artless cry,But not begun because I am debarred.Thus sighs and death my heart no comfort give;Both life deny, and both do make me live.Bold are her smiles, her smiles that are not bold,Wise are her words, those words that are not wise,Cold are her lips, those lips that are not cold,Ice are those hands, those hands that are not ice.Thus smiles and words, her lips, her hands, and she,Bold, wise, cold, ice, love's cruel torments be.Bold are her smiles, because they anger slay,Not bold her smiles because they blush so oft;Wise are her words because they wonders say,Not wise her words because they are not soft.Thus smiles and words, so cruel and so bold,So blushing wise, my thoughts in prison hold.Cold are her lips because they breathe no heat,Not cold her lips because my heart they burn;Ice are her hands because the snow's so great,Not ice her hands that all to ashes turn.Thus lips and hands cold ice my sorrow brew;Hands, warm white snow and lips cold cherry-red.Small was her waist, the waist that was not small,Gold was her hair, the hair that was not gold,Tall was her shape, the shape that was not tall;Folding the arms, the arms that did not fold.Thus hair and shape, those folding arms and waist,Did make me love, and loving made me waste.Small was her waist, because I could it span,Not small her waist because she wanted all;Gold was her hair because a crown it wan,Not gold her hair because it was more pale.Thus smallest waist, the greatest waste doth make,And finest hair most fast a lover take.Tall was her shape because she touched the sky,Not tall her shape because she comely was;Folding her arms because she hearts could tie,Not folded arms because all bands they pass.Thus shape and arms with love my heart did ply,That hers I am, and must be till I die.Sad was her joy, her joy that was not sad,Short was her stay, her stay that was not short,Glad was her speech, her speech that was not glad,Sporting those toys, those toys that were not sport.Thus was my heart with joy, speech, toys and stay,Possessed with love, and so stol'n quite away.Sad was her joy because she did respect,Not sad her joy because her joy she had,Short was her stay because to small effect,Long was her stay because I was so sad.Thus joy and stay, both crossed a lover's sport,The one was sad, the other too too short.Glad was her speech because she spake her mind,Not glad her speech because afraid to speak;Sporting her toys because my love was kind,Not toys in sport because my heart they break.Thus speech and toys my love began in jest;Sweet, yield to love, and make thy servant blest.Tread you the maze, sweet love, that I have run,Mark but the steps which I imprinted have;End but your love whereas my thoughts begun;So shall I joy and you a servant have.If not, sweet love, then this my suit deny;So shall you live, and so your servant die.
True are my thoughts, my thoughts that are untrue,Blind are my eyes, my eyes that are not blind,New is my love, my love that is not new,Kind is that fair, that fair that is not kind.Thus eyes and thoughts, that fairest fair, my love,Blind and untrue, unkind, unconstant prove.
True are my thoughts because they never flit,Untrue my thoughts because they me betrayed;Blind are my eyes because in clouds I sit,Not blind my eyes because I looks obeyed.Thus eyes and thoughts, my dearest fair may viewIn sight, in love, not blind, nor yet untrue.
New is my love because it never dies,Old is my love because it ever lives;Kind is that fair because it hate denies,Unkind that fair because no hope it gives.Thus new my love, and still that fair unkind,Renews my love, and I no favour find.
Sweet are my dreams, my dreams that are not sweet,Long are the nights, the nights that are not long,Meet are the pangs, these pangs that are unmeet,Wronged is my heart, my heart that hath no wrong.Thus dreams, and night, my heart, my pangs, and allIn taste, in length, conspire to work my fall.
Sweet are my dreams because my love they show,Unsweet my dreams because but dreams they are;Long are the nights because no help I know,Meet are the nights because they end my care.Thus dreams and nights wherein my love take sport,Are sweet, unsweet, are long, and yet too short.
Meet are my pangs because I was too bold,Unmeet my pangs because I loved so well;Wronged was my heart because my grief it told,Not wronged. For why? My grief it could not tell.Thus you my love unkindly cause this smart,That will not love to ease my pangs and heart.
Proud is her look, her look that is not proud,Done all my days, my days that are not done,Loud are my sighs, my sighs that are not loud,Begun my death, my death not yet begun.Thus looks and days and sighs and death might moveSo kind, so fair, to give consent to love.
Proud is her look because she scorns to see,Not proud her look for none dare say so much;Done are my days because they hapless be,Not done my days because I wish them such.Thus looks and days increase this loving strife.Not proud, nor done, nor dead, nor giving life.
Loud are my sighs because they pierce the sky,Not loud my sighs because they are not heard;My death begun because I artless cry,But not begun because I am debarred.Thus sighs and death my heart no comfort give;Both life deny, and both do make me live.
Bold are her smiles, her smiles that are not bold,Wise are her words, those words that are not wise,Cold are her lips, those lips that are not cold,Ice are those hands, those hands that are not ice.Thus smiles and words, her lips, her hands, and she,Bold, wise, cold, ice, love's cruel torments be.
Bold are her smiles, because they anger slay,Not bold her smiles because they blush so oft;Wise are her words because they wonders say,Not wise her words because they are not soft.Thus smiles and words, so cruel and so bold,So blushing wise, my thoughts in prison hold.
Cold are her lips because they breathe no heat,Not cold her lips because my heart they burn;Ice are her hands because the snow's so great,Not ice her hands that all to ashes turn.Thus lips and hands cold ice my sorrow brew;Hands, warm white snow and lips cold cherry-red.
Small was her waist, the waist that was not small,Gold was her hair, the hair that was not gold,Tall was her shape, the shape that was not tall;Folding the arms, the arms that did not fold.Thus hair and shape, those folding arms and waist,Did make me love, and loving made me waste.
Small was her waist, because I could it span,Not small her waist because she wanted all;Gold was her hair because a crown it wan,Not gold her hair because it was more pale.Thus smallest waist, the greatest waste doth make,And finest hair most fast a lover take.
Tall was her shape because she touched the sky,Not tall her shape because she comely was;Folding her arms because she hearts could tie,Not folded arms because all bands they pass.Thus shape and arms with love my heart did ply,That hers I am, and must be till I die.
Sad was her joy, her joy that was not sad,Short was her stay, her stay that was not short,Glad was her speech, her speech that was not glad,Sporting those toys, those toys that were not sport.Thus was my heart with joy, speech, toys and stay,Possessed with love, and so stol'n quite away.
Sad was her joy because she did respect,Not sad her joy because her joy she had,Short was her stay because to small effect,Long was her stay because I was so sad.Thus joy and stay, both crossed a lover's sport,The one was sad, the other too too short.
Glad was her speech because she spake her mind,Not glad her speech because afraid to speak;Sporting her toys because my love was kind,Not toys in sport because my heart they break.Thus speech and toys my love began in jest;Sweet, yield to love, and make thy servant blest.
Tread you the maze, sweet love, that I have run,Mark but the steps which I imprinted have;End but your love whereas my thoughts begun;So shall I joy and you a servant have.If not, sweet love, then this my suit deny;So shall you live, and so your servant die.
Down in a bed and on a bed of down,Love, she, and I to sleep together lay;She like a wanton kissed me with a frown,Sleep, sleep, she said, but meant to steal away;I could not choose but kiss, but wake, but smile,To see how she thought us two to beguile.She feigned a sleep, I waked her with a kiss;A kiss to me she gave to make me sleep;If I did wrong, sweet love, my fault was this,In that I did not you thus waking keep."Then kiss me, sweet, that so I sleep may take,Or let me kiss to keep you still awake."The night drew on and needs she must be gone;She wakèd Love, and bid him learn to wait;She sighed, she said, to leave me there alone,And bid Love stay but practise no deceit.Love wept for grief, and sighing made great moan,And could not sleep nor stay if she were gone."Then stay, sweet love;" a kiss with that I gave;She could not stay, but gave my kiss again;A kiss was all that I could get or crave,And with a kiss she bound me to remain."Ah Licia," still I in my dreams did cry,"Come, Licia, come, or else my heart will die."
Down in a bed and on a bed of down,Love, she, and I to sleep together lay;She like a wanton kissed me with a frown,Sleep, sleep, she said, but meant to steal away;I could not choose but kiss, but wake, but smile,To see how she thought us two to beguile.
She feigned a sleep, I waked her with a kiss;A kiss to me she gave to make me sleep;If I did wrong, sweet love, my fault was this,In that I did not you thus waking keep."Then kiss me, sweet, that so I sleep may take,Or let me kiss to keep you still awake."
The night drew on and needs she must be gone;She wakèd Love, and bid him learn to wait;She sighed, she said, to leave me there alone,And bid Love stay but practise no deceit.Love wept for grief, and sighing made great moan,And could not sleep nor stay if she were gone.
"Then stay, sweet love;" a kiss with that I gave;She could not stay, but gave my kiss again;A kiss was all that I could get or crave,And with a kiss she bound me to remain."Ah Licia," still I in my dreams did cry,"Come, Licia, come, or else my heart will die."
Distance of place my love and me did part,Yet both did swear we never would remove;In sign thereof I bid her take my heart,Which did, and doth, and can not choose but love.Thus did we part in hope to meet again,Where both did vow most constant to remain.A she there was that passed betwixt us both,By whom each knew how other's cause did fare;For men to trust men in their love are loth;Thus had we both of love a lover's care.Haply he seeks his sorrows to renew,That for his love doth make another sue.By her a kiss, a kiss to me she sent.A kiss for price more worth than purest gold.She gave it her, to me the kiss was meant;A she to kiss, what harm if she were bold?Happy those lips that had so sweet a kiss,For heaven itself scarce yields so sweet a bliss!This modest she, blushing for shame of this,Or loth to part from that she liked so well,Did play false play, and gave me not the kiss;Yet my love's kindness could not choose to tell.Then blame me not, that kissing sighed and sworeI kissed but her whom you had kissed before.Sweet, love me more, and blame me not, sweet love;I kissed those lips, yet harmless I do vow;Scarce would my lips from off those lips remove,For still methought, sweet fair, I kissèd you.And thus, kind love, the sum of all my blissWas but begun and ended in a kiss.Then send me more, but send them by your friend;Kiss none but her, nor her, nor none at all.Beware by whom such treasures you do send,I must them lose except I for them call.And love me, dear, and still still kissing be;Both like and love, but none, sweet love, but me.
Distance of place my love and me did part,Yet both did swear we never would remove;In sign thereof I bid her take my heart,Which did, and doth, and can not choose but love.Thus did we part in hope to meet again,Where both did vow most constant to remain.
A she there was that passed betwixt us both,By whom each knew how other's cause did fare;For men to trust men in their love are loth;Thus had we both of love a lover's care.Haply he seeks his sorrows to renew,That for his love doth make another sue.
By her a kiss, a kiss to me she sent.A kiss for price more worth than purest gold.She gave it her, to me the kiss was meant;A she to kiss, what harm if she were bold?Happy those lips that had so sweet a kiss,For heaven itself scarce yields so sweet a bliss!
This modest she, blushing for shame of this,Or loth to part from that she liked so well,Did play false play, and gave me not the kiss;Yet my love's kindness could not choose to tell.Then blame me not, that kissing sighed and sworeI kissed but her whom you had kissed before.
Sweet, love me more, and blame me not, sweet love;I kissed those lips, yet harmless I do vow;Scarce would my lips from off those lips remove,For still methought, sweet fair, I kissèd you.And thus, kind love, the sum of all my blissWas but begun and ended in a kiss.
Then send me more, but send them by your friend;Kiss none but her, nor her, nor none at all.Beware by whom such treasures you do send,I must them lose except I for them call.And love me, dear, and still still kissing be;Both like and love, but none, sweet love, but me.
If sad complaint would show a lover's pain,Or tears express the torments of my heart,If melting sighs would ruth and pity gain,Or true laments but ease a lover's smart;Then should my plaints the thunder's noise surmount,And tears like seas should flow from out my eyes;Then sighs like air should far exceed all count,And true laments with sorrow dim the skies.But plaints and tears, laments and sighs I spend,Yet greater torments do my heart destroy;I could all these from out my heart still send,If after these I might my love enjoy.But heavens conspire, and heavens I must obey,That seeking love I still must want my ease;For greatest joys are tempered with delay,Things soon obtained do least of all us please.My thoughts repine and think the time too long,My love impatient wisheth to obtain;I blame the heavens that do me all this wrongTo make me loved and will not ease my pain.No pain like this, to love and not enjoy;No grief like this, to mourn and not be heard;No time so long as that which breeds annoy;No hell like this, to love and be deferred!But heaven shall stand and earth inconstant fly,The sun shall freeze and ice inconstant burn,The mountains flow and all the earth be dry,Ere time shall force my loving thoughts to turn.Do you resolve, sweet love, to do the same,Say that you do, and seal it with a kiss.Then shall our truths the heavens' unkindness blameThat can not hurt yet show their spite in this.The silly 'prentice bound for many years,Doth hope that time his service will release;The town beseiged that lives in midst of fears,Doth hope in time the cruel wars will cease.The toiling plough-man sings in hope to reap,The tosséd bark expecteth for a shore;The boy at school to be at play doth leap,And straight forgets the fear he had before.If those by hope do joy in their distress,And constant are in hope to conquer time,Then let not hope in us, sweet friend, be less,And cause our love to wither in the prime.Let me conspire and time will have an end,So both of us in time shall have a friend.
If sad complaint would show a lover's pain,Or tears express the torments of my heart,If melting sighs would ruth and pity gain,Or true laments but ease a lover's smart;
Then should my plaints the thunder's noise surmount,And tears like seas should flow from out my eyes;Then sighs like air should far exceed all count,And true laments with sorrow dim the skies.
But plaints and tears, laments and sighs I spend,Yet greater torments do my heart destroy;I could all these from out my heart still send,If after these I might my love enjoy.
But heavens conspire, and heavens I must obey,That seeking love I still must want my ease;For greatest joys are tempered with delay,Things soon obtained do least of all us please.
My thoughts repine and think the time too long,My love impatient wisheth to obtain;I blame the heavens that do me all this wrongTo make me loved and will not ease my pain.
No pain like this, to love and not enjoy;No grief like this, to mourn and not be heard;No time so long as that which breeds annoy;No hell like this, to love and be deferred!
But heaven shall stand and earth inconstant fly,The sun shall freeze and ice inconstant burn,The mountains flow and all the earth be dry,Ere time shall force my loving thoughts to turn.
Do you resolve, sweet love, to do the same,Say that you do, and seal it with a kiss.Then shall our truths the heavens' unkindness blameThat can not hurt yet show their spite in this.
The silly 'prentice bound for many years,Doth hope that time his service will release;The town beseiged that lives in midst of fears,Doth hope in time the cruel wars will cease.
The toiling plough-man sings in hope to reap,The tosséd bark expecteth for a shore;The boy at school to be at play doth leap,And straight forgets the fear he had before.
If those by hope do joy in their distress,And constant are in hope to conquer time,Then let not hope in us, sweet friend, be less,And cause our love to wither in the prime.
Let me conspire and time will have an end,So both of us in time shall have a friend.
FOOTNOTES:[A]hery, praise.[B]steer empoop (text: steerem poop):en poupe.[C]Our?
[A]hery, praise.
[A]hery, praise.
[B]steer empoop (text: steerem poop):en poupe.
[B]steer empoop (text: steerem poop):en poupe.
[C]Our?
[C]Our?