O meritum nolis fari, me teste vocato,
Hoc iniustitiae quo mea corda premis.
Non oculo at lingua tua volnera dirige, virgo,
Vsaque vi iusta parce necare dolo.

Sive 'alibi' causaris amo,' me, cara, vidente
Non alium versus lumina flecte virum;
Vt ferias tune artis eges, cum viribus istis
Sistere quas contra vis mea pressa nequit?
Est ita te purgare: suis confixus ocellis
Vt misere fuerim Cynthia nostra videt;
Inde meo par hoc hostile avertit ab ore,
Iniciant aliis ut sua tela viris.

Sed nunquam facias, at ocellis paene peremptum
Conficias totum, meque dolore leves.

CXL

Sis sapiens, crudelis ut es, nolisque superbe
Imposita haec linguae rumpere frena meae;
Inveniam ne verba miser, testantia quantus
Me cruciet, dum tu nil miserare, dolor.
Te sapere an doceam, virgo? si forsan amare
Non potes, at prudens fingere, cara, fuit.
Difficiles aegri quando mors imminet ipsa
A medici capiunt omnia laeta labro.
In furias agerer spe dempta, interque furorem
Fors reperirem in te posse maligna loqui.
Invida res vita est, et iniqua loquentibus aures
Invidiosorum mox habuere fidem.

Quod mihi ne fiat, nec tu violeris, ocellos
Contineas istos, sis vaga corde licet.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone;
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

CXLII

Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb'd others' beds' revénues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine impórtune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!

Certe non oculis te, Cynthia, ductus amavi
Dispiciunt formae tot vitiosa tuae;

Sed mihi pectus amat visum offendentia, pectus
Nil oculis curans quid videatur, amat.
Non capit has aures tua vox, nec corporis ullus
Sensus avet tecum quod sibi dulce frui;
Nulla mihi naris siqua est, aut siqua palati

Gratia, nec cupide tangere promptus amor;
Sed fatuum hoc pectus tibi ne deserviat, illud
Mens mea nec sensus quinque vetare valent.
Quippe viri imperium linquit, fastidia demum
Vt tua pertoleret femineumque iugum;
Hoc tamen et noxae in tantum prodesse videtur,
Quod mihi quae suadet, vindicat illa, nefas.

CXLII

Crimen amare meum est; tua virtus crimen amandi
Odit, ais, metuens ut sit honestus amor.
O misera, amborum vitas inquirere si vis,
Facta cito invenies irreprehensa meae.
Sin aliter, vix sint istis carpenda labellis,
Purpureus quorum non sine labe rubor;
Quae pepigere meis haud rarius improba furta,
Iuraque legitimis surripuere toris.

Tu iuvenes ut amas, mihi ius te detur amandi,
Si petis hos oculis, et mihi fas sit idem.
Fac pietas in te radicem agat, auctaque cum sit,
Tunc alios miserans tale merere queas.
Vaticinor; quae danda negas si poscis habenda,
Sit tibi ab exemplo nata repulsa tuo.

Lo! as a careful huswife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay;
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent:
So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind:
So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,'
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

CXLIV

Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;

But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell:

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

Villica siquando servandis sedula rebus
Volt capere elapsam claustra cohortis avem,
E gremio infantem deponit, nilque morata.
Id sequitur solum quod revocasse cupit.
Parvulus interea desertus tentat et illam

Pone sequi, implorans voce manuque moras.
Mater, avem sectata fugas ante ora petentem
Assidue, nescit quid fleat ille miser.
Persequeris sic tu, virgo, quod te fugit usque,
Teque, infans veluti, sic ego pone sequor.
Si capies tua vota, mihi te redde, vicemque
Matris agens labris imprime labra meis.
Sic habeas quod aves, ad me si currere retro,
Vagitusque meos sistere blanda velis.

CXLIV

Binus amor variis animum solatur et angit
Imperiis, vitae numen et ira meae;
Hic meliora monet, vir casto candidus ore,
Furva est virgineis vox malesuada genis.
Quoque magis peream, traxit mihi numen amicum
A latere illecebris ira maligna suis;
Scilicet in furiam sanctum mihi vertere numen
Volt, et in obscaenum sollicitare nefas.

In furiamne abeat de numine, multa vereri
Hoc super est, necdum cernere vera queo;
Quod tamen ambo absunt, ac se sunt inter amici,
Caelum in Tartareos suspicor isse locos.
Nec sciero verum, donec mihi sanctius illud
Ex animo flammis invida pestis aget.