Dixeris, o, nunquam me falsum, absentia quanquam Visa sit ardoris vim minuisse mei;
Non animam citius quam memet linquere possum,
Inque tui septo pectoris illa iacet.
Cara mihi domus ista; ut sim fortasse vagatus,
At redeo, qualis qui pede fecit iter;
Adque diem rediens, ac non mutatus ut ille,
Lympha viae sordes quae luat, ipse fero.
Nunquam, o, credideris, pectus si prava tenerent
Cuncta quot obsidunt sanguinis omne genus,
Flagitio infectum fuit hoc, ut linquere vellet
Te, nihilum propter, te, mea summa boni.
Totus enim mundus prae te, flos optime rerum,
Fit nihili; e cunctis unus es omne mihi.
Hei mihi, sed verum est, huc illuc isse locorum
Me scio, qua variae vestis et oris eram;
Irrisi mea sensa, habui carissima venum
Cuncta, cupidinibus lusus, ut ante, novis.
Pura fides oculis est a me censa malignis;
Hoc tamen affirmo, per quod ubique deûm est,
Dum fluito, pietas antiqua renascitur imo
Corde, tuamque probant cetera falsa fidem.
His posui finem; cape iam sine fine futura:
Non iterum cote hac est acuendus amor.
Eius non iterum renovo tentamina, nostras
Inter amicitias qui Iovis instar habet.
Optime post illum, tu me dignare benigne
Accipere, inque tuum condere pectus amans.
my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand;
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:
Pity me then and wish I were renew'd;
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
Your love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks are dead.
O potius pro me Fortunae corripe nomen,
Quae dea delictis praesidet una meis;
Illa mihi ad vitam tantum nonnulla pararat
Publica, par morum nascitur unde genus.
Hinc macula aspersum nomen, naturaque rebus
Victa, velut fuco tingitur usa manus.
Omnia quae volvens tu me miserare, voveque
Hoc mihi, ut incipiam pectus habere novum.
Aeger ero patiens, et aceti pocula quot sunt
Ebibero si sit tanta repressa lues.
Nil ego triste habeam, vel poenam poena priorem
Si geminet, domitum perdomitura malum.
Me miserare igitur, sat enim, carissime, firmo
Esse salutiferum si miseratus eris.
Omne mihi explesti, dum me miseraris amasque,
Sculpserat in frontem quod mala fama notae.
Laudet enim culpetve alius, quid noscere curem,
Prava coloraris tu modo, recta probes.
Es mihi tu mundus, quid rectum quidve probrosum,
Me decet a labris quaerere, care, tuis;
Vivit nemo mihi, nullique ego, ferrea sensa
Qui queat haec in fas flectere, sive nefas.
Do barathro vocum curas aliunde crepantum
Quodlibet, austero sive favente sono;
His habeo occlusos, frigens ut vipera, sensus;
Quem tuear fastum qua ratione, vide:
Consiliis tu sic nostris cognatus, amice,
Efficis ut reliquos mortua corda putem.
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? saith true,
Or whether shall I
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O, 'tis the first; 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth
prepare the
If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
En oculus, simulac te liqui, sola tuetur
Praeterita, et regimen deserit omne viae.
Parte puto caecum, nam visus sicubi iusti
Fert speciem, visu conficit inde nihil.
Tradit enim menti formae nihil ille receptae,
Sit volucris, sit flos, sitve figura viri;
E rapide oblatis aliquid mens prendere nescit,
Quaeque oculus prendit vix ea firma tenet.
Quodlibet aspiciat, perquam rude, perve decorum,
Distortum membris, egregiumve genus;
Mons, mare, lux, nox sit, cornix aut candida penna,
Ille sibi in speciem mitigat omne tuam.
Te plena, accipiunt aliud nil corda, vetatque
Vna fides aliam pectus habere fidem.
An mihi plena ob te regali pectora fastu
Blanditias sitiunt, regibus acre malum?
Anne oculum dicam de visis vera referre,
Per magicen illi quam tuus addat amor;
Vnde reformari monstra indigestaque rerum
Aetheria specie, consimilique tuae?
Sic oculo promptum e pravis formosa creare
Omnia, sub radios eius ut omne cadit.
O reor est illud, visus blandissima fingit,
Blandaque regum instar mens animosa vorat;
Deinde, quod est oculo mentis bene nota voluptas,
Protinus ad mentis miscuit ille sitim.
Falsaque si miscet, minor eius culpa, quod ipse
Est avidus falsi, libat et omne prior.
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