Page 2246 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4
P. 2246
’Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it:
My love to love is love but to disgrace it,
For I have heard, it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.
«Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish’d? [415]
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing things be any jot diminish’d,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth;
The colt that’s back’d and burden’d being young,
Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. [420]
«You hurt my hand with wringing, let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat;
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart,
To love’s alarms it will not ope the gate.
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flatt’ry, [425]
For where a heart is hard they make no batt’ry».
«What, canst thou talk?» quoth she, «hast thou a tongue?
O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing!
Thy mermaid’s voice hath done me double wrong;
I had my load before, now press’d with bearing: [430]
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding,
Ears’ deep sweet music, and heart’s deep sore wounding!
«Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty and invisible;
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move [435]
Each part in me that were but sensible:
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.
«Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, [440]
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;