Sweetest love, I do not go
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the worls can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest,
Thus by feigned deaths to die.
Yesternight the su went hence,
And yet is here today;
He hath no desire no sense,
Nor half so short a way;
Then fear not me,
But belive that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
O how feeble is man's power,
Than if good fortune fall
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!
But come bad chance,
And we join to it our streinght ,
And we teach it art and lenght,
itself o'er us to advance.
When thou sigh'st thou sight'st not wind,
but sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay:
it cannot be
that thou lovest me as thou say'st,
If in thine life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part
And may thy part
And may thy fears fulfill.
But think that we
Are but turned aside to sleep.
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
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