I see a strange confession in thine eye :

Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin,
To speak a truth.

The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.

19-i. 1.

1-ii. 1.

130.

The eyes.

Move these eyes?

Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar

Should sunder such sweet friends: Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: But her eyes,-
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfurnish'd.

9-iii. 2.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive :
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That shew, contain, and nourish, all the world.

132.

The same.

8-iv. 3.

What haste looks through his eyes! So should he look, That seems to speak things strange.

15-i. 2.

Even through the hollow eyes of death, I spy life peering; but I dare not say

How near the tidings of our comfort is.

17-ii. 1.

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!

Fairest lady

35-i. 1.

What are men mad? hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stonesn
Upon the number'd beach? and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
"Twixt fair and foul?

31-i. 7.

O, how ripe in show

Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!

7-iii. 2.

16-iii. 1.

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons : I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. He trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's pace is so hard, that it seems the length of

The pebbles on the sea-shore are so much of the same size and shape, that twinn'd may mean as like as

twins.

seven years. He ambles with a priest, that lacks Latin, and a rich man, that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury: These time ambles withal. He gallops with a thief to the gallows for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.-He stays still with lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves 10-iii. 2.

He hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

11—i. 1.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before.

Sonnet 60.

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

144.

4-iii. 1.

Time levels all things.

Come what come may;

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

145.

Time, the future.

15-i. 3.

There are many events in the womb of time, which will be delivered.

37-ii. 1.

146.

Time discovers all things.

Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides.

34-i. 1.

Time's ruin, beauty's wreck, and grim care's reign:
Her cheeks with chaps and wrinkles were disguised;
Of what she was, no semblance did remain:
Her blue blood changed to black in every vein,

Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had fed,
Shew'd life imprison'd in a body dead.

These grey locks, the pursuivants of death,
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care;—

Poems.

These eyes,-like lamps, whose wasting oil is spent,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:

Weak shoulders overborne with burd'ning grief;
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine

That droops his sapless branches to the ground:-
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,
Unable to support this lump of clay,-
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave.

21-ii. 5.

When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls, all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard:
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
And die as fast as they see others grow.

Time, whose million'd accidents

Poems.

Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things.

Poems.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.

Sonnet 60.

Life's but a walking shadow.

153.

The same.

15-v. 5.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together P.

11-iv. 3.

His life is parallel'd

Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; He doth with holy abstinence subdue

That in himself, which he spurs on his power

To qualify in others: were he meal'd

With that which he corrects, then were he tyran

nous;

But this being so, he's just.

5-iv. 2.

155.

Life, its fluctuation.

This world to me is like a lasting storm,

Whirring me from my friends.

33—iv. 1.

Good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abysm of hell.

30-iii. 11.

157. Life may be shortened but not prolonged. Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,

• "Man is like to vanity; his days are as a shadow that passeth away."-Ps. cxliv. 4.

"Who knoweth what is good for man in this life?" -Eccl. vi. 11.