Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried.
How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealousy!
You are abus'd
Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods,
To do you justice, make their ministers
Of us and those that love you.
Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.
Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.
No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought.
This Posthumus,
Most like a noble lord in love and one
That had a royal lover, took his hint;
And not dispraising whom we prais'd- therein
He was as calm as virtue- he began
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Here I kneel:
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form,
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me!
Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
That, if then I had waked after a long sleep, will make me sleep again and then, in dreaming, the clouds me thought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me that, when I waked I cried to dream again.
O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts!
If, with dear heart's love,
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter.
Heaven make you better than your thoughts!
Like to the Pontic Sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing's Cupid painted blind.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories