To a Lady that desired I would love her.
I.
NOw you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you doe?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to wooe;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?
Poems, with a maske by Thomas Carew ... ; the songs were set in musick by Mr. Henry Lawes ...
About this Item
- Title
- Poems, with a maske by Thomas Carew ... ; the songs were set in musick by Mr. Henry Lawes ...
- Author
- Carew, Thomas, 1595?-1639?
- Publication
- London :: Printed for H.M., and are to be sold by J. Martin ...,
- 1651.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34171.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Poems, with a maske by Thomas Carew ... ; the songs were set in musick by Mr. Henry Lawes ..." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34171.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.
Pages
Page 110
2.
Each petty beauty can disdain, and I
Spight of your hate
Without your leave can see, and dye;
Dispence a nobler Fate,
Tis easie to destroy, you may create.
3.
Then give me leave to love, & love me too
Not with designe
To rayse, as Loves curst Rebels doe,
When puling Poets whine,
Fame to their beauty, from their blubbi'd eyri.
4.
Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear
Your beauties rayes;
Ioyes are pure streames, your eyes appear
Sullen in sadder layes,
In cheerfull numbers they shine bright with prayse.
5.
Which shall not mention to express you fayr
Wounds, flames, and darts,
Storms in your brow, nets in your hair,
Suborning all your parts,
Or to betray, or torture captive hearts,
Page 111
6.
I'l make your eyes like morning Suns appear,
As mild, and fair;
Your brow as Crystall smooth, and clear,
And your dishevell'd hayr
Shall flow like a calm Region of the Ayr.
7.
Rich Nature's store, (which is the Poet's Treasure)
I'l spend, to dress
Your beauties, if your mine of Pleasure
In equall thankfulness
You but unlock, so we each other bless.