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Politics : Sharks in the Septic Tank -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: one_less who wrote (72472)	8/14/2003 4:21:47 PM
From: The Philosopher	Respond to of 82486

WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm, Nor question much, That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm ; The mystery, the sign, you must not touch ; For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution. For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall Through every part Can tie those parts, and make me one of all, Those hairs which upward grew, and strength and art Have from a better brain, Can better do 't ; except she meant that I By this should know my pain, As prisoners then are manacled, when they're condemn'd to die. Whate'er she meant by it, bury it with me, For since I am Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry, If into other hands these relics came. As 'twas humility To afford to it all that a soul can do, So 'tis some bravery, That since you would have none of me, I bury some of you.

To: one_less who wrote (72472)	8/14/2003 4:22:33 PM
From: The Philosopher	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 82486

NOW thou hast loved me one whole day, To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou say ? Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow ? Or say that now We are not just those persons which we were ? Or that oaths made in reverential fear Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear ? Or, as true deaths true marriages untie, So lovers' contracts, images of those, Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose ? Or, your own end to justify, For having purposed change and falsehood, you Can have no way but falsehood to be true ? Vain lunatic, against these 'scapes I could Dispute, and conquer, if I would ; Which I abstain to do, For by to-morrow I may think so too.