“For, if I imp my wing on thine,Affliction shall advance the flight in me.”

“For if I wimp my wing on thine. Affliction shall advance the flight in me.”

“Have I no harvest but a thorn   To let me bloud, and not restoreWhat I have lost with cordiall fruit? Sure there was wine   Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn   Before my tears did drown it.   Is the yeare onely lost to me?   Have I no bayes to crown it?No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? All wasted?   Not so, my heart: but there is fruit, And thou hast hands.   Recover all thy sigh-blown ageOn double pleasures: leave thy cold disputeOf what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands,Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee   Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law,   While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.”

“Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,The bridal of the earth and sky;The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,For thou must die.”

“But I am lost in flesh, whose sugared lies,Still mock me and grow bold:Sure thou didst put a mind there, if I couldFind where it lies.”

“Having been tenant long to a rich Lord, Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to affordA new small-rented lease, and cancell th’ old.In heaven at his manour I him sought: They told me there, that he was lately gone About some land, which he had dearly boughtLong since on earth, to take possession.I straight return’d, and knowing his great birth, Sought him accordingly in great resorts; In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts:At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of theeves and murderers: there I him espied, Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died. ”

“Make me a captive, Lord,And then I shall be free;Force me to render up my sword,And I shall conqueror be.I sink in life's alarmsWhen by myself I stand;Imprison me within Thine arms,And strong shall be my hand”