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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408510" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To his unconstant Friend</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">But say thou very woman, why to me <br>This fit of weakness and inconstancie? <br>What forfeit have I made of word or vow, <br>That I am rack't on thy displeasure now? <br>If I have done a fault I do not shame <br>To cite it from thy lips, give it a name: <br>I ask the banes, stand forth, and tell me why <br>We should not in our wonted loves comply? <br>Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to trie <br>If any other man could love as I? <br>I see friends are like clothes, lad up whil'st new, <br>But after wearing cast, though nere so true. <br>Or did thy fierce ambition long to make <br>Some Lover turn a martyr for thy sake? <br>Thinking thy beauty had deserv'd no name <br>Unless some one do perish in that flame: <br>Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies, <br>Here's one was murther'd by his Mistriss eyes. <br>Or was't because my love to thee was such, <br>I could not choose but blab it? swear how much <br>I was thy slave, and doting let thee know, <br>I better could my self then thee forgo. <br>Hearken ye men that ere shall love like me, <br>Ile give you counsel gratis: if you be <br>Possest of what you like, let your fair friend <br>Lodge in your bosom, but no secrets send <br>To seek their lodging in a female brest; <br>For so much is abated of your rest. <br>The Steed that comes to understand his strength <br>Growes wild, and casts his manager at length: <br>And that tame Lover who unlocks his heart <br>Unto his Mistriss, teaches her an art <br>To plague himself; shews her the secret way <br>How She may tyrannize another day. <br>And now my fair unkindness, thus to thee; <br>Mark how wise Passion and I agree: <br>Hear and be sorry for't. I will not die <br>To expiate thy crime of levitie: <br>I walk (not cross-arm'd neither) eat, and live, <br>Yea live to pity thy neglect, not grieve <br>That thou art from thy faith and promise gone, <br>Nor envy him who by my loss hath won. <br>Thou shalt perceive thy changing Moon-like fits <br>Have not infected me, or turn'd my wits <br>To Lunacie. I do not mean to weep <br>When I should eat, or sigh when I should sleep; <br>I will not fall upon my pointed quill, <br>Bleed ink and Poems, or invention spill <br>To contrive Ballads, or weave Elegies <br>For Nurses wearing when the infant cries. <br>Nor like th' enamour'd Tristrams of the time, <br>Despair in prose, and hang my self in rhime. <br>Nor thither run upon my verses feet, <br>Where I shall none but fools or mad-men meet, <br>Who mid'st the silent shades, and Myrtle walks, <br>Pule and do penance for their Mistress faults. <br>I'm none of those poetick male-contents <br>Born to make paper dear with my laments: <br>Or wild Orlando that will rail and vex, <br>And for thy sake fall out with all the sex. <br>No, I will love again, and seek a prize <br>That shall redeem me from thy poor despise. <br>Ile court my fortune now in such a shape <br>That will no faint die, nor starv'd colour take. <br>Thus launch I off with triumph from thy shore, <br>To which my last farewell; for never more <br>Will I touch there. I put to Sea again <br>Blown with the churlish wind of thy disdain. <br>Nor will I stop this course till I have found <br>A Coast that yields safe harbour, and firm ground. <br>Smile ye Love-Starres; wing'd with desire I fly,<br>To make my wishes full discovery: <br>Nor doubt I but for one that proves like you, <br>I shall find ten as fair, and yet more true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+King">Henry King</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408510" data-title="To his unconstant Friend de Henry King" data-description="But say thou very woman, why to me 
This fit of weakness and inconstancie? 
What forfeit have I made of word or vow, 
That I am rack't on thy displeasure now? 
If I have done a fault I do not shame 
To cite it from thy lips, give it a name: 
I ask..."></div>
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