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XLIV



If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,

Injurious distance should not stop my way;

For then despite of space I would be brought,

From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.

No matter then although my foot did stand

Upon the farthest earth remov\'d from thee;

For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,

As soon as think the place where he would be.

But, ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,

To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,

But that so much of earth and water wrought,

I must attend, time\'s leisure with my moan;

  Receiving nought by elements so slow

  But heavy tears, badges of either\'s woe.

 	--William Shakespeare

XIII



O! that you were your self; but, love you are

No longer yours, than you your self here live:

Against this coming end you should prepare,

And your sweet semblance to some other give:

So should that beauty which you hold in lease

Find no determination; then you were

Yourself again, after yourself\'s decease,

When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. 

Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,

Which husbandry in honour might uphold,

Against the stormy gusts of winter\'s day

And barren rage of death\'s eternal cold?

  O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,

  You had a father: let your son say so.

 	--William Shakespeare

The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there\'s no
risk of accident for someone who\'s dead.