Ulysses. But yet the state of things require These motions of unrest: And these great Spirits of high desire Seem born to turn them best: To purge the mischiefs that increase And all good order mar: For oft we see a wicked peace To be well changed for war. Siren. Well, well, Ulysses, then I see I shall not have thee here: And therefore I will come to thee, And take my fortune there. I must be won, that cannot win, Yet lost were I not won; For beauty hath created been T' undo, or be undone.
113. Beauty, Time, and Love
Sonnets. I
Fair is my Love and cruel as she's fair;
Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny,
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair,
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey:
A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love;
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,
Sacred on earth, design'd a Saint above.
Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes,
Live reconcilèd friends within her brow;
And had she Pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,
My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.
