Цитаты из книги Amoretti и Эпиталама

ONE day I wrote her name vpon the strand, but came the waues and washed it away: agayne I wrote it with a second hand, but came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray. Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay, a mortall thing so to immortalize. for I my selue shall lyke to this decay, and eek my name bee wyped out…

NEW yeare forth looking out of Ianus gate, Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight: and bidding th' old Adieu, his passed date bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright. And calling forth out of sad Winters night, fresh loue, that long hath slept in cheerlesse bower: wils him awake, and soone about him dight his…

You frame my thoughts and fashion me within, you stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake, you calme the storme that passion did begin, strong thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak. Dark is the world, where your light shined neuer; well is he borne that may behold you euer.

FAYRE eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart, what wondrous vertue is contaynd in you the which both lyfe and death forth from you dart into the obiect of your mighty view? For, when ye mildly looke with louely hew, then is my soule with life and loue inspired: but when ye lowre, or looke on me askew then doe I die, as one…

So when my toung would speak her praises dew, it stopped is with thoughts astonishment: and when my pen would write her titles true, it rauisht is with fancies wonderment: Yet in my hart I then both speake and write, the wonder that my wit cannot endite.

THE weary yeare his race now hauing run, The new begins his compast course anew: with shew of morning mylde he hath begun, betokening peace and plenty to ensew, So let vs, which this chaunge of weather vew, chaunge eeke our mynds and former liues amend the old yeares sinnes forepast let vs eschew and fly the faults with…

SHALL I then silent be or shall I speake? And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall: and if I silent be, my hart will breake, or choked be with ouerflowing gall. What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall, and eke my toung with proud restraint to tie? that nether I may speake nor thinke at all, but like a stupid stock in…

But in her pride she dooth persever still, all carelesse how my life for her decayse: yet with one word she can it saue or spill. to spill were pitty, but to saue were prayse.

SONNET. XXX. MY loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; how comes it then that this her cold so great is not dissolu'd through my so hot desyre, but harder growes the more I her intreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat is not delayd by her hart frosen cold: but that I burne much more in boyling sweat, and feel my flames…