Then, O, why should thy woman-thought impose
Death and disdain on him that yields his breath,
To free his soul from discontent and woes,
And humble sacrifice to a certain death?
O since the world knows what the power can do,
What were't for thee to save and love me too?
X
I meet not mine by others' discontent,
For none compares with me in true devotion;
Yet though my tears and sighs to her be spent,
Her cruel heart disdains what they do motion.
Yet though persisting in eternal hate,
To aggravate the cause of my complaining,
Her fury ne'er confineth with a date,
I will not cease to love, for her disdaining.
Such puny thoughts of unresolved ground,
Whose inaudacity dares but base conceit,
In me and my love never shall be found.
Those coward thoughts unworthy minds await.
But those that love well have not yet begun;
Persever ever and have never done!
THE EIGHTH DECADE
I
Persever ever and have never done,
You weeping accent of my weary song!
O do not you eternal passions shun,
But be you true and everlasting long!
Say that she doth requite you with disdain;
Yet fortified with hope, endure your fortune;
Though cruel now she will be kind again;
Such haps as those, such loves as yours importune.
Though she protests the faithfullest severity
Inexecrable beauty is inflicting,
Kindness in time will pity your sincerity,
Though now it be your fortune's interdicting.
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