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CXXII



Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain

Full character\'d with lasting memory,

Which shall above that idle rank remain,

Beyond all date; even to eternity:

Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart

Have faculty by nature to subsist;

Till each to raz\'d oblivion yield his part

Of thee, thy record never can be miss\'d.

That poor retention could not so much hold,

Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;

Therefore to give them from me was I bold,

To trust those tables that receive thee more:

  To keep an adjunct to remember thee

  Were to import forgetfulness in me.

 	--William Shakespeare

LXXV



So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet-season\'d showers are to the ground;

And for the peace of you I hold such strife

As \'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.

Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon

Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;

Now counting best to be with you alone,

Then better\'d that the world may see my pleasure:

Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,

And by and by clean starved for a look;

Possessing or pursuing no delight,

Save what is had, or must from you be took.

  Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,

  Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

 	--William Shakespeare

CXXIX



The expense of spirit in a waste of shame

Is lust in action: and till action, lust

Is perjur\'d, murderous, bloody, full of blame,

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;

Enjoy\'d no sooner but despised straight;

Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,

Past reason hated, as a swallow\'d bait,

On purpose laid to make the taker mad:

Mad in pursuit and in possession so;

Had, having, and in quest, to have extreme;

A bliss in proof,-- and prov\'d, a very woe;

Before, a joy propos\'d; behind a dream.

  All this the world well knows; yet none knows well

  To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

 	--William Shakespeare