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William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
Good night, good rest, ah neither be my share,
She bad good night, that kept my rest away, And daft me to a cabben hangde with care: To descant on the doubts of my decay, Farewell (quoth she) and come againe to morrow: Fare well I could not, for I supt with sorrow. Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorne or friendship, nill I conster whether: 'Tmay be she joyd to jeast at my exile. 'Tmay be againe, to make me wander thither. Wander (a word) for shadowes like my selfe, As take the paine, but cannot plucke the pelfe. Lord how mine eyes throw gazes to the East, My heart doth charge the watch, the morning rise Doth scite each moving sence from idle rest, Not daring trust the office of mine eies. While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and marke, And wish her layes were tuned like the Larke. For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty, And drives away darke dreaming night: The night so packt, I post unto my pretty, Hart hath his hope, and eies their wished sight, Sorrow chang'd to solace, and solace mixt with sorrow, For why, she sight, and bad me come to morrow. Were I with her, the night would post too soone, But now are minutes added to the houres: To spite me now, each minute seemes an houre, Yet not for me, shine Sunne to succour flowers.
William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600]. |
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