- King, A. Robert (music) ; MacDonald, Ballard (lyric).
Shapiro, Bernstein & Co., New York, 1919, Wraps, , , Very Good
3 pp. 9 X 12 inches. A bump to one corner and a spot of foxing, very good. ''Once in a while there's a fragrance rare, Bringing a lingering vision fair, . . .'' Voice and piano.
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The Will (1633)
Before I sigh my last gaspe, let me breath, Great Love, some Legacies; Here I bequeath Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see, If they be blinde, then Love, I give them thee; My tongue to Fame; to’Embassadours mine eares; To women, or the sea, my teares. Thou, Love, hast taught mee heretofore By making mee serve her who’had twenty more, That I should give to none, but such, as had too much before. My constancie I to the planets give; My truth to them, who at the Court doe live; Mine ingenuity and opennesse, To Jesuites; to Buffones my pensivenesse; My silence to’any, who abroad hath beene; My money to a Capuchin. Thou Love taught’st me, by appointing mee To love there, where no love receiv’d can be, Onely to give to such as have an incapacitie. My faith I give to Roman Catholiques; All my good works unto the Schismaticks Of Amsterdam: my best civility And Courtship, to an Universitie; My modesty I give to souldiers bare; My patience let gamesters share. Thou Love taughtst mee, by making mee Love her that holds my love disparity, Onely to give to those that count my gifts indignity. I give my reputation to those Which were my friends; Mine Industry to foes; To Schoolemen I bequeath my doubtfulnesse; My sicknesse to Physitians, or excesse; To Nature all that I in Ryme have writ; And to my company my wit. Thou Love, by making mee adore Her, who begot this love in mee before, Taughtst me to make, as though I gave, when I do but restore. To him for whom the passing bell next tolls, I give my physick bookes; my writen rowles Of Morall counsels, I to Bedlam give; My brazen medals, unto them which live In want of bread; To them which passe among All forrainers, mine English tongue. Thou, Love, by making mee love one Who thinkes her friendship a fit portion For yonger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproportion. Therefore I’ll give no more; but I’ll undoe The world by dying; because love dies too. Then all your beauties will bee no more worth Than gold in Mines, where none doth draw it forth; And all your graces no more use shall have Than a Sun dyall in a grave. Thou Love taughtst mee, by making mee Love her, who doth neglect both mee and thee, To’invent, and practise this one way, to’annihilate all three.John Donne [1572–1631]