The Passionate Pilgrim by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook
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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 untutored youth unskilful in the world's false forgeries thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young although i know my years be past the best i smiling credit her false-speaking tongue out-facing faults in love with love's ill rest

but wherefore says my love that she is young and wherefore say not i that i am old oh love's best habit is a soothing tongue and age in love loves not to have years old therefore i'll lie with love and love with me since it are faults in love thus smother it be the

poem two of the passionate pilgrim two loves i have of comfort and despair that like two spirits do suggest me still my better angel is a man right fair my worser spirit a woman coloured 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 fair pride and whether that my angel be turned fiend suspect i may yet not directly tell for being both to me both to each friend i guess one angel in another's hell

the truth i shall not know but live in doubt till my bad angel fire my good one out did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye gainst whom the world could not hold argument persuade my heart to this false perjury

vows for thee broke deserve not punishment a woman i foreswore but i will prove thou being a goddess i foreswore not thee my vow was earthly thou a heavenly love thy grace being gain cures all disgrace in me my vow was breath and breath a vapour is

then thou fair sun that on this earth doth shine exhale this vapor thou in thee it is if broken then it is no fault of mine if by me broke what fool is not so wise to break an oath to win a paradise and a poem this recording is placed in a public domain poem four of the passionate pilgrim by william shakespeare

Sweet Cytheria, sitting by a brook with young Adonis lovely, fresh, and green, did court the lad with many a lovely look, such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. She told him stories to delight his ear. She showed him favors to lure his eye. To win his heart she touched him here and there. Touches so soft still conquer chastity.

that whether unripe years did want conceit or he refused to take her figure proper the tender niblet would not touch the bait but smile and jest at every gentle offer then fell she on her back fair queen and toward he rose and ran away ha fool too fraught the

if love make me forsworn how shall i swear to love oh never faith could hold if not the beauty vowed though to myself forsworn to thee i'll constant frue those thoughts to me like oaks to thee like osiers bowed study his biased leaves and make his book thine eyes where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend

if knowledge be the mark to know thee shall suffice and well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend all ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder which is to me some praise that i thy parts admire thy eye jove lightning seems thy voice his dreadful thunder which not to anger bent is music and sweet fire

Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing heaven praise with such an earthly tongue. And a poem. This recording is placed in the public domain. Poem 6 of The Passionate Pilgrim by William Shakespeare. This is a Liberbox recording. Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, When Cytheria,

all in love forlorn a longing tariance for adonis made under an osier growing by a brook a brook where adan used to cool his spleen hot was the day she hotter that did look for his approach that often there had been anon he comes and throws his mantle by and stood stark naked on the brook's green brim

the sun looked on the world with a glorious eye yet not so wistfully as this queen on him he spying her bounced in whereas he stood o joe koshy why was i not a flood

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fair is my love but not so fair as fickle mild as a dove but neither true nor trusty brighter than glass and yet as glass is brittle softer than wax yet as iron rusty a lily pale with the mass dyed to grace her none fairer nor none falser to deface her

her lips to mine how often hath she join'd between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing how many tales to please me hath she coin'd dreading my love the loss thereof still fearing yet in the midst of all her pure protestings her faith her oaths her tears and all were jestings

she burned with love as straw with fire flameth she burned out love as soon as straw outburneth she framed the love and yet she foiled the framing she bade love last and yet she fell a-turning was this a lover or a lecher whether bad in the best though excellent in neither the

if music and sweet poetry agree as they must needs the sister and the brother then must the love be great twixt thee and me cause thou lov'st the one and i the other dowlin to thee is there whose heavenly touch upon the lute doth ravish human sense spenser to me whose deep conceit is such as passing all conceit needs no defence

thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound that phoebus lute the queen of music makes and i in deep delight am chiefly drowned when as himself to singing he betakes one god is god of both as poets vain one knight loves both and both in thee remain the

Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love paled for sorrow, than her milk-white dove, for Aidan's sake, a youngster proud and wild.

her stand she takes upon a steep up-hill anon adonis comes with horn and hounds she silly queen with more than love's good-will forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds once close she did i see a fair sweet youth here in these brakes deep wounded with a bore deep in the thigh a spectacle of ruth see in my thigh quoth she here was the saw she showed hers

he saw more wounds than one and blushing fled and left her all alone and a poem this recording is in the public domain poem x of the passionate pilgrim by william shakespeare this is a librivox recording sweet rose fair flower untimely plucked soon vated plucked in the bud and vated in the spring bright orient pearl alack too timely shaded

fair creature killed too soon by death's sharp sting like a green plum that hangs upon a tree and falls through wind before the fall should be i weep for thee and yet no cause i have for why thou let'st me nothing in thy will and yet thou let'st me more than i did crave for why

i crave nothing of thee still oh yes dear friend i pardon crave of thee thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me venus with young adonis sitting by her under a myrtle shade began to woo him she told the youngling how god mars did try her

And as he fell to her, so fell she to him. Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god embraced me, and then she clipped Adonis in her arms. Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlaced me, as if the boy should use like loving charms. Even thus, quoth she, he seized on my lips, and with her lips on his did act the seizure.

and as she fetched breath away he skips and would not take her meaning nor her pleasure ah did i had my lady at this bay to kiss and clip me till i run away the youth is full of care

youth like summer morn age like winter weather youth like summer brave age like winter bare youth is full of sport age's breath is short youth is nimble age is lame youth is hot and bold age is weak and cold youth is wild and age is tame age i do abhor thee

youth i do adore thee o my love my love is young age i do defy thee o sweet shepherd hie thee what methinks thou stayest too long and a poem this recording is placed in the public domain poem thirteen of the passionate pilgrim by william shakespeare this is a libberbox recording beauty is but a vain and doubtful good

a shining gloss that vadeth suddenly a flower that dies when first it gins to bud a brittle glass that's broken presently a doubtful good a gloss a glass a flower lost vaded broken dead within an hour and as goods lost are seldom or never found as vaded gloss no rubbing will be fresh

as flowers dead lie withered on the ground as broken glass though cement can redress so beauty blemished once is for ever lost in spite of physic painting pain and cost the

good night good rest ah neither be my share she bade good night that kept my rest away and daft me to a cabin hanged with care to decant on the doubts of my decay farewell quoth she and come again to-morrow farewell i could not for i supped with sorrow yet at my parting sweetly did she smile in scorn or friendship nill i construe whether

to maybe she joyed to jest at my exile to maybe again to make me wander thither wander a word for shadows like myself as take the pain but cannot pluck the pelf the

my heart doth charge the watch the morning rise doth sight each moving sense from idle rest not daring trust the office of mine eyes while philomela sits and sings i sit and mark and wish her lays were tuned like the lark for she doth welcome daylight with her ditty and drives away dark dismal dreaming night the night so packed i post unto my pretty

heart hath his hope and eyes their wishd sight sorrow changed to solace solace mixed with sorrow for why she sighed and bade me come to-morrow were i with her the night would post too soon but now are minutes added to the hours despite me now each minute seems a moon yet not for me shine sun to succour flowers

pack night peep day good day of night now borrow short night to-night and link thyself to-morrow and a poem

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