Which prove more short than waste or ruining? Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblation, poor but free, Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, But mutual render, only me for thee. Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul When most impeach'd stands least in thy control. 125 Ne trata li pustaya - baldahin? Kak prehodyashchemu - fundament vechnyj, Kak hlopoty u budushchih ruin, - Izvesten zhizni rezul'tat konechnyj. Zachem shikuet, pyzhas', pustocvet, Hvalyas', zamorskie smakuet slasti? - Szhigaet zhizn' dlya prizrachnyh pobed, Dorog ne znaya k istinnomu schast'yu. YA - serdcu tvoemu sluzhu! Dozvol' Vruchit' svoj skromnyj dar, pritvorstvu chuzhdyj, Pust' oboyudnoj budet nasha rol': Sebya ty mne daruj vo imya druzhby. Proch', soglyadataj! CHem vredish' sil'nej, Tem vernaya dusha eshche vernej! 126 O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, And her quietus is to render thee. 126 Ty, svet ochej moih, hranya Krasu, Sam derzhish' Zerkalo, CHasy, Kosu. CHasam verny, stareyut vse vokrug, Tebya zh Priroda berezhet, moj drug. Nad Vremenem smeyas', Priroda-mat' Reshila beg tvoih minut sderzhat': Dala otsrochku - ne speshit' vpered, - Tuda, gde Vremya kazhdogo ub'et. Otsrochka konchitsya - pridet zakat: Otdast Priroda-mat' tebya v zaklad I otvedet svoj blagosklonnyj vzor: Spolna dolg vzyshchet Vremya-kreditor. 127 In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on nature's power, Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not bom fair, no beauty, lack, Slandering creation with a false esteem: Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so. 127 Bryunetok v starinu ne pochitali, Ih ne spasali divnye cherty; Hotya teper' eshche krasivej stali, CHurayutsya vse etoj chernoty. Fal'shivaya lichina - vot urodstvo: Prirodu podpravlyayut tam i tut, U Krasoty voruyut Blagorodstvo, Svyatoe Imya i svyatoj Priyut. I v traure lico moej Lyubovi - Skorbit, chto Krasotu porochit lozh': CHerny glaza i smolyanisty brovi, S krylom voron'im chernyj lokon shozh. K licu lyubimoj traurnyj naryad, "Vot krasoty obrazchik!" - vse tverdyat. 128 How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap. At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. 128 Ty muzykoyu, Muzyka moya, Plenyaesh' sluh, kasayas' grubyh klavish, - Letayut pal'cy, voshishchayus' ya, Kak l'yushchejsya melodiej ty pravish'. A klavishi, kak parni, nevznachaj Sryvayut pocelui s pal'cev milyh, Voruya pohodya moj urozhaj, I ya pylayu, gnev unyat' ne v silah. Nemozhno eti derzosti terpet', ZHivomu - derevyashkam pokoryat'sya! Oni mertvy, ne mogut plamenet', Pora mestami s nimi pomenyat'sya. Ty uhazheram v meru potakaj: Daruj im pal'cy, guby mne otdaj! 129 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted; and no sooner had Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. 129 Rastrata duha, duha i styda - Vot pohot', pohot' v dejstvii: bludliva, Podla i krovozhadna, i vsegda Ubijstvenna, dika, slastolyubiva. Mig naslazhdeniya projdet, i vnov' Bezum'e ploti dushu otvrashchaet - Vot tak pritvara budorazhit krov', Vot tak pritvara razum pohishchaet. Bezumna pohot' v bege za mechtoj, Bezumna pohot' na piru svidan'ya, No cel' dognav, otpirovav s lihvoj, Skorbit - prishlo pohmel'e obladan'ya. Ne v silah izbezhat' ni star, ni mlad Puti v raj plotskij, chto zavodit v ad. 130 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. 130 Glaza dostalis', a ne zvezdy ej, I guby na korally ne pohozhi, CHerneet provolokoj snop kudrej, I grud' temna - ne belosnezhna kozha. Obychny shcheki, i na um nejdet Sravnit' ih s rozoj beloj ili aloj, A duh takoj ot tela, chto zab'et Prostye zapahi zemli, pozhaluj. Milee prochih miloj govorok, Hot' melodichno on zvuchit edva li, I topot mil zemnyh devich'ih nog. Puskaj takih bogin' i ne vidali, Klyanus', ona ne huzhe teh, ej-ej, CHto lzhec voznes, chtob ulozhit' vernej. 131 Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: To say they err I dare not be so bold, Although I swear it to myself alone. And, to be sure that is not false I swear, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, One on another's neck, do witness bear Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place. In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. 131 Nadmennaya krasa srodni tiranu. O, kak zhestoka ty so mnoj podchas! Ved' znaesh', nikogda ne perestanu Tebya lyubit' - edinstvennyj almaz. I esli slyshu ya, chto obayan'ya Ty lishena, ne smeya vozrazhat', Ni s kem ya ne vstupayu v prerekan'e, No prodolzhayu po tebe vzdyhat' I smuglost'yu tvoeyu naslazhdat'sya - Inoj vovek ne myslyu krasoty: Da kak zhe eyu mne ne vostorgat'sya - Net nichego prekrasnej chernoty. Da vot dela tvoi cherny, uvy: Tebe ne izbezhat' durnoj molvy. 132 Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, Have put on black and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, Nor that full star that ushers in the even, Doth half that glory to the sober west, As those two mourning eyes become thy face: O, let it then as well beseem thy heart To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, And suit thy pity like in every part. Then will I swear beauty herself is black And all they foul that thy complexion lack. 132 Lyublyu glaza tvoi - oni skorbyat, Kak budto mne daruya sostradan'e, Tvoe zhestokoserdie hulyat I traurno ih chernoe sverkan'e. Ne krasit solnce tak vostok sedoj, YAvlyaya miru utrennie vzory, Tak zapad ne ukrasitsya zvezdoj, Vzoshedshej na vechernie prostory, Kak lik tvoj yasnyj - chernyj blesk ochej! Pust' glazu serdce zloe podchinitsya, I traur vocarit v dushe tvoej: Pust' mnoj boleet kazhdaya chastica! YA poklyanus': prekrasna chernota I tol'ko ej prisushcha krasota. 133 Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must bel Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engross'd: Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail; Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail: And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. 133 Proklyat'e toj dushe, chto dushu rvet I ranit serdce chernymi delami - Ej nedostatochno moih nevzgod, Teper' oputan drug ee cepyami. Zamuchen trizhdy, trizhdy ya raspyat: Kogda byl vzyat ya v kabalu toboyu, Kogda ty brosila na druga vzglyad, Kogda zhestoko porvala so mnoyu. V grudi svoej stal'noj menya zamkni, Otdav mne serdce druga na poruki: Stav storozhem emu vse nochi-dni, Navernyaka svoi umen'shu muki! Tvoj uznik ya i znayu tvoj otvet - Raz vse moe i tak tvoe, ty brosish': "Net!" 134 So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous and he is kind; He learn'd but surety-like to write for me Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; So him I lose through my unkind abuse. Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. 134 Teper' i drug popalsya - oba my V tvoih rukah. Plachu za pregreshen'e: Ne vylezti iz dolgovoj tyur'my - Ty druga vozvrati mne v uteshen'e. Net, vy teper' vorkuete vdvoem - Dobro i alchnost'. Kak mne zhit' na svete?! Drug byl moim doverennym licom - I chto zhe?! Sam k tebe popalsya v seti. Ty - rostovshchica: za krasu spolna ZHelaesh' poluchit'. Tebe vse malo! Za starye dolgi - moya vina! - I druga nynche ty konfiskovala. Uplachen dolg, no ne razorvan krug, Teper' v nevole oba: ya i drug. 135 Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy "Will", And "Will" to boot, and "Will" in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, And in my will no fair acceptance shine? The sea, all water, yet receives rain still And in abundance addeth to his store; So thou, being rich in "Will", add to thy "Will" One will of mine, to make thy large "Will" more. Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; Think all but one, and me in that one "Will". 135 YA - tvoj Uill. Ty, zhen inyh ne huzhe, Uillov vseh plenish' dlya raznyh del, Oni tvoim zhelan'yam slavno sluzhat - Menya vzyala by, ya by preuspel. V tebe kipyat bezmernye zhelan'ya: Moe s tvoim zhelan'em slit' pozvol'! Ili tebe drugih milej priznan'ya, Poetomu mne prichinyaesh' bol'? Kakie b reki ne vpadali v more, Vovek ne perepolnitsya ono, - Moe zhelan'e priyuti, ne sporya: ZHelan'ya vseh Uillov slil v odno. Ne prichinyaj prositelyam stradan'ya: Im ugozhdaj, vnyav moemu zhelan'yu! 136 If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy "Will", And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. "Will" will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd none: Then in the number let me pass untold, Though in thy store's account I one must be, For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me, for my name is "Will". 136 SHepni svoej slepoj dushe "Uill", CHtob blizost'yu so mnoj ne vozmushchalas', CHtob otvergat' menya ne stalo sil I chtob zhelala ty menya hot' malost'. Kogda zhelan'ya hlynut cherez kraj, Pust' i moe v sokrovishchnicu l'etsya: Odin tolpu popolnit nevznachaj, Ved' mesto odnomu vsegda najdetsya. Znaj: ya - nichto - ne uvelichu schet, No, chto-to znacha, ya mechtu leleyu: Cena tvoih vladenij vozrastet, Kogda tebe sebya otdat' sumeyu. Ty tol'ko imya polyubi - "Uill" - ZHelannym budu srazu: stanu mil. 137 Thou blind fool. Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold, and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied? Why should my heart think that a several plot Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, To put fair truth upon so foul a face? In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd, And to this false plague are they now transferr'd. 137 Slepoj glupec Amur, chto sdelal ty? Mne lgut glaza, mir predstaet fal'shivym: YA v krasote ne vizhu krasoty I vizhu nekrasivoe krasivym. Ty - buhta, gde brosayut yakorya Vse korabli; tebe zhe, alchnoj, - malo: Ty vykovala cepi, mne darya Iz fal'shi puty, chto prochnej metalla. Zachem tverdit mne serdce v sotyj raz, CHto zapovednik etot zapert prochno? - Gulyayut vse v nem, no fal'shivit glaz: V tom dobrodetel' vidit, chto porochno. Nakazan ya: glaza i serdce lgut - Vovek dorogi vernoj ne najdut. 138 When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told: Therefore I lie with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be. 138 Vovek ya miloj lgun'e ne perechu, Kogda ona risuetsya svyatoj, Pust' dumaet, chto, kak yunec bespechnyj, YA neizmenno veryu lzhi prostoj. Ona-to vozrast moj, konechno, znaet, No lestno soznavat' sebya yuncom; Vsemu ya veryu, chto ona boltaet - Ot pravdy s neyu pryachemsya vdvoem. Zachem ona hitrit so mnoyu snova? Zachem skryvayu ya svoi goda? Lyubov' vsemu doverit'sya gotova, Let ne otkroet starost' nikogda. I potomu ya s nej, ona - so mnoj: My lzhivoj lest'yu svyazany odnoj. 139 O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows Her pretty looks have been my enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain. 139 Ty opravdaniya ne zhdi - zhestoko Menya kaznish'! No pravdy ne skryvaj, Srazi otkryto yazykom do sroka: Lukavya, vzorami ne ubivaj. Drugogo lyubish' - ne terzaj, i vzglyadom Pri mne ty ne odarivaj ego, Tebe k obmanu pribegat' ne nado, Dostatochno sil'na ty bez togo. A mozhet byt', ot bed spasti zhelayut Menya moi vragi - tvoi glaza - I strely smertonosnye puskayut, Menya minuya, a drugih razya? Ty vidish' - smert' blizka! Tak stan' dobrej: Ot muk menya izbav' - skorej dobej! 140 Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know; For if I should despair, I should grow mad, And in my madness might speak ill of thee: Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. That I may not be so, nor thou belied, Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide. 140 Granic zhestokosti ne prestupaj I ne kazni bezzhalostnym prezren'em, Ne to mogu vzorvat'sya nevznachaj, Pytayas' polozhit' konec muchen'yam. Ne lyubish' - ravnodushie pripryach', Solgat' ne bojsya, razum prizyvaya! Tak umirayushchemu darit vrach Na zhizn' nadezhdu, ob ishode znaya. Otchayavshis', sojdu s uma ot bed, Nachnu tebya hulit' i dnem i noch'yu. Podhvatit lozh' bezumca podlyj svet I vydavat' za istinu zahochet. Pust' kleveta i zlo minuyut nas - Ne otvodi, hot' razlyubila, glaz. 141 In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone: But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain. 141 V tebe iz®yany podmechaet glaz, No serdce v bezrassudnom voshishchen'e, Ne verya serdcu, kazhdyj mig i chas V lyubovnom zamiraet upoen'e. Tebya otnyne ne zhelayut znat' Ni osyazan'e, vkus, ni obonyan'e, Ni zren'e i ni sluh - zrya priglashat' K tebe ih na lyubovnyj pir svidan'ya. Ne v silah razum i pyat' chuvstv moih Zastavit' serdce, chtob ono vosstalo, Ono v okovah, rab strastej tvoih: Vassal v grudi vlyublennogo vassala. Ty vvergla v greh menya! - zhiv uteshen'em: Ty i sud'ya - menya kaznish' muchen'em. 142 Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profaned their scarlet ornaments And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied! 142 Lyubov' - moj greh. Svyataya prostota, Ty nenavidish' etot greh otkryto. Pust' greshen ya - i ty uzhe ne ta, A eto oznachaet, chto my kvity. Uzh poricat', tak ne tvoim ustam, Kotorye mne ne odnazhdy lgali: Lyubov' my oba vorovali tam, Gde lozhe nenadezhno ohranyali. Lyublyu tebya ya tak, kak lyubish' vseh, Kogo svoim ty vzglyadom odarila: Moya lyubov' k tebe takoj zhe greh - O, esli b sostradan'e ty vzrastila. Gluha tvoya dusha k chuzhoj bede, I ty ne syshchesh' zhalosti nigde. 143 Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feather'd creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: So will I pray that thou mayst have thy "Will", If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. 143 Hozyajka hlopotlivaya, poroyu Revushchego ostaviv malysha, Mchit za pernatym beglecom streloyu, I o malyshke ne bolit dusha; Rebenok gromko plachet, prosit chto-to, Ne pomogaet goryu detskij voj - U materi sejchas odna zabota: Pernatogo dognav, zagnat' domoj. Tak mchish' ty za dobycheyu svoeyu, Menya, rebenka, brosiv pozadi, - Ee ya pomogu dognat' skoree, A ty vernis' ko mne, prizhmi k grudi. Pernatogo zhivee izlovi: Menya potom utesh' teplom lyubvi! 144 Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, yet no't directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell: Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 144 Dva duha serdcem teshatsya moim, Nesut vostorg i muku, im vladeya: Drug belokuryj - nezhnyj heruvim - I smuglaya podruga - zlaya feya. YA slovno v preispodnej v gor'kij chas: Besovka soblaznyaet heruvima, Porochnost' vystavlyaya napokaz, A mne - razluka s drugom nesterpima. Uzhel' emu teper' sam chert ne brat I odolela d'yavol'skaya sila?! Uzhel' drug s neyu zaodno i v ad Ego obmanom feya zamanila?! ZHit' mne v somnenii, pokuda on Dotla zlodejkoj-feej ne sozhzhen. 145 Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate" To me that languish'd for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet; "I hate" she alter'd with an end, That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away; "I hate" from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying "not you". 145 "Ujdi!" - promolvilo sozdan'e, CHto ya bogotvoril do slez, No vidya tyazhkoe stradan'e, Oborvala potok ugroz I yazychok svoj prikusila, CHto mne vchera nadezhdu dal, I ulybnulas' - nastupila Pora neiskrennih pohval. Kak den' gryadet na smenu nochi, Ad ostavlyaya pozadi, Tak radost' nam daruyut ochi. ...Ona promolvila: "Ujdi!", No zhizn' vernula mne totchas: "Ne bojtes'! YA gonyu ne vas". 146 Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, .......these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more: So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. 146 Moj bednyj Duh, grehovnoj ploti sut', Ty ne sposoben vyderzhat' osadu Myatezhnyh sil - nel'zya zhit' kak-nibud', Darya vse kraski odnomu fasadu. Zachem, na srok vzyav etot dom vnaem, Fasad userdno krasish' to i delo? CHtob chervi pirovali pyshno v nem, Kogda ty brennoe pokinesh' telo? Znaj: telo - rab; sokrovishcha kopi, Za schet raba zhivi, Smert' ob®edaya, Bozhestvennuyu budushchnost' skupi, Letyashchie v nichto dni prodavaya. Tu Smert', chto zhret lyudej, sam pogloti: Pozhrav ee, bessmert'e obreti. 147 My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly express'd; For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 147 Lyubov' - goryachka, zhar ne utihaet, Naoborot stanovitsya sil'nej: Ee tuda vlechet, gde polyhaet Ogon' vsepozhirayushchih strastej. Ostavil razum-vrach menya v neschast'e - Razgnevan: ya sovetom prenebreg, Smert' nenasytna i smertel'ny strasti, YA zhdu, kogda pridet poslednij srok. ZHivu na grani umopomrachen'ya I, obezumev, povtoryayu lozh', Lyuboe bespolezno mne lechen'e, - Uvy, chto s nenormal'nogo voz'mesh'? Klyanus', chto ty chista, tvoj svetel vzglyad, A ty mrachna, kak noch', cherna, kak ad. 148 O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or, if they have, where is my judgement fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's "No". How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true, That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? No marvel then, though I mistake my view; The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. 148 Zachem ty porchu navela, skazhi? CHtob iskazhennym mir yavlyalsya glazu? A esli glaz ne vinovat vo lzhi, To povredila ty togda moj razum. Kogda prekrasno to, chto vidit vzor, To otchego mir ne soglasen s etim? A glaz fal'shivit - yasen prigovor: Za porchu glaza ty, Lyubov', v otvete! Sleza bezhit. Trevogoj ya ob®yat, I bol' menya ot etogo pronzaet - Tak solncu tuchi zastilayut vzglyad, Kogda oni na nebo vypolzayut! Kovarnaya Lyubov'! - slepish' slezoj, CHtob gryaznye dela tvorit' samoj! 149 Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in myself respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind. 149 Da razve umerla vo mne lyubov'? Za chto korish' menya, tiran-carica? S toboyu vmeste razve ne gotov YA protiv samogo sebya srazit'sya? Druzhu ya s temi, kto tebe ne mil? Tvoim vragam ya razve ugozhdayu? I esli ya tebya kogda gnevil, To razve ne kaznyus' ya? Ne stradayu? Da hot' odin kapriz tvoj razve est', CHto miloj ne ispolnil v ugozhden'e? Da razve ne prezrel ya dolg i chest'? Ne povinuyus' razve glaz dvizhen'yu? CHto zh - nenavid', ya znayu norov tvoj: Ty zryachih lyubish', ya, uvy, slepoj! 150 O, from what power hast thou this powerful might With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O, though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: If thy unworthiness raised love in me, More worthy I t