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. For some can say, whose loves have known like passion, "Women are kind by kind, and coy for fashion." II Give period to my matter of complaining, Fair wonder of our time's admiring eye, And entertain no more thy long disdaining, Or give me leave at last that I may die. For who can live, perpetually secluded From death to life, that loathes her discontent? Lest by some hope seducively deluded, Such thoughts aspire to fortunate event; But I that now have drawn mal-pleasant breath Under the burden of thy cruel hate, O, I must long and linger after death, And yet I dare not give my life her date; For if I die and thou repent t' have slain me, 'Twill grieve me more than if thou didst disdain me. III 'Twill grieve me more than if thou didst disdain me, That I should die; and thou, because I die so. And yet to die, it should not know to pain me, If cruel beauty were content to bid so. Death to my life, life to my long despair Prolonged by her, given to my love and days, Are means to tell how truly she is fair, And I can die to testify her praise. Yet not to die, though fairness me despiseth, Is cause why in complaint I thus persever; Though death me and my love inparadiseth, By interdicting me from her for ever. I do not grieve that I am forced to die, But die to think upon the reason why. IV