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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498925" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Forsaken Lady To Her False Servant That Is Disdained By His New Mistriss</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Were it that you so shun me, 'cause you wish<br>(Cruels't) a fellow in your wretchednesse,<br>Or that you take some small ease in your owne<br>Torments, to heare another sadly groane,<br>I were most happy in my paines, to be<br>So truely blest, to be so curst by thee:<br>But oh! my cries to that doe rather adde,<br>Of which too much already thou hast had,<br>And thou art gladly sad to heare my moane;<br>Yet sadly hearst me with derision.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thou most unjust, that really dust know,<br>And feelst thyselfe the flames I burne in. Oh!<br>How can you beg to be set loose from that<br>Consuming stake you binde another at?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Uncharitablest both wayes, to denie<br>That pity me, for which yourself must dye,<br>To love not her loves you, yet know the pain<br>What 'tis to love, and not be lov'd againe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Flye on, flye on, swift Racer, untill she<br>Whom thou of all ador'st shall learne of thee<br>The pace t'outfly thee, and shall teach thee groan,<br>What terrour 'tis t'outgo and be outgon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor yet looke back, nor yet must we<br>Run then like spoakes in wheeles eternally,<br>And never overtake? Be dragg'd on still<br>By the weake cordage of your untwin'd will<br>Round without hope of rest? No, I will turne,<br>And with my goodnes boldly meete your scorne;<br>My goodnesse which Heav'n pardon, and that fate<br>MADE YOU HATE LOVE, AND FALL IN LOVE WITH HATE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But I am chang'd! Bright reason, that did give<br>My soule a noble quicknes, made me live<br>One breath yet longer, and to will, and see<br>Hath reacht me pow'r to scorne as well as thee:<br>That thou, which proudly tramplest on my grave,<br>Thyselfe mightst fall, conquer'd my double slave:<br>That thou mightst, sinking in thy triumphs, moan,<br>And I triumph in my destruction.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Hayle, holy cold! chaste temper, hayle! the fire<br>Rav'd o're my purer thoughts I feel t' expire,<br>And I am candied ice. Yee pow'rs! if e're<br>I shall be forc't unto my sepulcher,<br>Or violently hurl'd into my urne,<br>Oh make me choose rather to freeze than burne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</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=498925" data-title="A Forsaken Lady To Her False Servant That Is Disdained By His New Mistriss de Richard Lovelace" data-description="Were it that you so shun me, 'cause you wish
(Cruels't) a fellow in your wretchednesse,
Or that you take some small ease in your owne
Torments, to heare another sadly groane,
I were most happy in my paines, to be
So truely blest, to be so curst by..."></div>
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