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XXXVIII.

How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou doft breathe, that pour❜st into

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy fight;

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For who's fo dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rimers invocate;

And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my flight Mufe do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

XXXIX.

O, how thy worth with manners may I fing,
When thou art all the better part of me?

What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?

And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?

Even for this let us divided live,

And our dear love lose name of fingle one,

That by this feparation I may give

That due to thee which thou deservest alone.

O abfence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy four leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts fo fweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain !

XL.

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What haft thou then more than thou hadft before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadft this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyfelf deceiveft
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou fteal thee all my poverty;
yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,

And

Kill me with fpites; yet we must not be foes.

XLI.

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am sometime absent from thy heart,
Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,
For ftill temptation follows where thou art.
Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be affailed;
And when a woman woos, what woman's fon
Will fourly leave her till she have prevailed?
Ay me! but yet thou mightft my seat forbear,
And chide thy beauty and thy ftraying youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there

Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth,-
Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.

XLII.

That thou haft her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A lofs in love that touches me more nearly.
Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye :

Thou doft love her, because thou know'ft I love her;
And for my fake even so doth she abuse me,
Suffering my friend for my fake to approve her.
If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,

And lofing her, my friend hath found that loss;
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
And both for my fake lay on me this cross:
But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;
Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.

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