Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! Serious vanity!
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
O, she's rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
O, she's rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
It is the East, and Asuka is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my love!
Ay me! Sad hours seem long.