Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)

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Following in Lady Geraldine's first-footsteps, ha ha. Your name is mentioned, and you are described with considerable accuracy. That was true, I was quite confused. I had never seen the Journal, yet my full name certainly was Michelle Evelene Watson, I was about the height that William Tynedale had been, and my auburn hair reached to my shoulders on the rare occasions when it was brushed out. The baron now asked my war-master to take over. He introduced a woman named Dr. Becker was a tense, nervy person. She spoke very quickly, and continually moved her hands in little circles.

If anyone was going to dictate those two passages to William and Edward Tynedale, it could not have been anyone better qualified than you. My colleague Doctor Cassin and I have done a lot of work on the mathematics of temporal paradoxes and probability fields.

We think it is possible to have a past that ceases to exist, yet can be detected. A person, possibly in Tynedale's future, helped him to change the future. In that future, she did not write all these pages, yet she still exists. Possibly she is you. Yet the words have been written. Were you able to give the answer, you would not be the mere commander of a patrol cruiser. You would be the head of—well, the head of a very important research facility. Getting back to the problem, however, we have hypothesised the idea of multiple pasts, like tributaries of a river.

One past will supersede another, but there will always be a single present. These pages were possibly written in two or three alternative pasts that combined to make up our present. Much of that model's mathematics is based on records found amid the ruins at Centaurus Skye. We had found an entire civilization, cut down in its very prime. There had also been outposts and colonies on nine of the other bodies in the Centaurus system. All had been destroyed with almost surgical precision in some very ancient conflict. There was evidence that it had been a widespread, interplanetary nuclear war, yet the ruins displayed very little evidence of radiation.

Only a nuclear war millions of years in the past would have allowed enough time for the radiation to have died away to such an extent. The Centaurus Skye civilization had been considerably more advanced than ours. Our weapons technology had always lagged our ability to build and power our spacecraft. The earliest of our space wars were actually fought with gunpowder weapons. We have been thinking that if we can, ah, engineer a different past, then we can be far more advanced in our weaponry by this year, We can also warn those in our new future not to make the radio broadcasts that could alert the victorious race about our presence.

Your 'image' from an alternate past was in love with him as well, that is just as obvious. To come straight to the point, we need you to read a dissertation on advanced physics, chemistry, weaponry, and electronics to the Tynedales. Oh, and a warning about the race that ashed the Centaurian civilization as well. There was no word other than yes when it came to orders. Again I was left alone with the portrait of William Tynedale and his journal. My words as transcribed by him. Then there was my declaration of love for a man who had died in , who was then eighty-eight years old.

Somehow he was twenty-two for me, however, and the year was William Tynedale had changed the world with his theories, along with the inventions of his brother. They were the first of modern scientists. I was about to ask him to foresake the credit for so much scientific brilliance. Could he do it? Would he and his contemporaries even understand the warning about never using radios, because of the danger from the Overmen?

For all of my life I had worked to live up to the standards of my ancestors. Now I had done it, and where was there to go? Produce heirs with the aid of a suitable partner—or be impregnated with the seed of someone famous and brilliant. A suitable partner had been chosen by my baronial sponsor house, a fleet admiral's son.

I had nothing more to do, I merely had to lie back and reproduce. Another book was on the table, this one a bound printout of a carefully selected suite of science and technology lessons. It had been tailored to skirt superseded theories and inventions, and the experts hoped that it would advance the English kingdom to powered flight and machine guns by , and laser cannons a half century after that.

Some educational theorists felt that they would have a working stardrive by the end of that century, but to me that seemed rather too ambitious. And what of me? Since I had been a little girl I had fantasised about building a time machine into a spacecraft, plucking William Tynedale out of fifteenth-century London, and spending the rest of our lives touring the worlds of the solar system.

He and his brother were the twin pillars on which the human interstellar empire were founded, they were the wellsprings of the torrent of science and invention that had taken humanity out into space in They were giants, and we were all standing on their shoulders, yet for me there was something more personal. William Tynedale never married, although Edward had fathered eleven children.

While at school I had written a story in which William had invented a teletemporal viewer, looked into the future and fallen in love with me. That little piece had earned me a credit, but brought so much derision from my classmates that I never again mentioned my true feelings for the younger of the Tynedale brothers. I was to read from a carefully prepared text, but there were cue areas where I was allowed to interpolate personal messages.

The experts felt that I should continue to show the affection for the first and greatest of modern scientists that the earlier, alternative Michelle Watsons had expressed. I had an audience of four, however, and that was not at all conducive to expressions of affection.

Flicking the switch to the transmitter, I began the transmission. I am about to give you yet more principles of natural philosophy that are true in all guise, and inventions within your wit and skill to construct. Other inventions and principles will be for those who follow you, however, for they will be very advanced, and for a time when the scholarship of your world has advanced quite considerably. This may be hard to comprehend, but try to believe what I now say. By my messages to you, your brother and you keep changing the future. Once I read to you as a tutor of children, but in this future I command a mighty vessel that flies between worlds.

If laid upon London it would reach from Moorgate to the Thames, and the smallest of its bombards could have wiped out both armies at the Battle of Poitiers with a single shot. In spite of having such immense power under my direction, my heart is yours, and I yearn to please you and help you to advance. The baron smirked as I spoke these words. I fought down a pang of annoyance. Had he known that I meant everything that I was saying, it would have been considerably worse. Some say it is a freak of nature, others think it might be a strange gift from a people millions of years more advanced than humans.

Whatever the truth, it allows me to speak with you. Each time the future changes, and each time I change, yet what is between us can never change. Through the sword's voice of steel I have spoken to you for the first time on three occasions. This is the fourth. Will I love you next time, after you change the future? It has happened every other time. I am now going to give you some more principles of what you call natural philosophies. The more basic of them are Earthly in origin.

The rest were discovered in ruined cities on a world unimaginably distant from where you stand. Now listen carefully and write quickly, my brave and brilliant soulmate. As I read I wondered if William Tynedale was going to be able to transcribe such advanced learning with any sort of precision. True, the authors had repeated the key ideas in a number of different ways, as a sort of fail-safe precaution, but I still had my doubts.

When I had finished, I picked up the Tynedale Journal to check the six-hundred-year-old version of what I had just read. Bishop Chester sat glowering at me. Without doubt this was because I had removed my veil, but I knew that he had little choice other than to humour me. Far out in space, humanity's headlong expansion had suddenly gone terribly wrong. There were rumours, but nothing more. I strongly suspect that you have tried using other readers to send messages to the Tynedales, and that William and his brother have ignored them. They probably did too much preaching about hellfire and their duty as Christians to obey absolutely, however.

The Tynedales appear to have been men of free thought and refreshingly liberal attitudes. Your sympathy for them puts your immortal soul in peril. I need to know what it is. A woman,and you presume to tell me what you need? I the shepherd charged by God to guide you to eternal salvation! My life had been a never ending series of outbursts along those lines. This particular one was nothing special. A nun who has actually been tied to the target frame of a thermonuclear induction laser is hard to intimidate.

Death had rested his hand upon my shoulder, then decided not to bother with me just then. That had been just a month ago, too. The charges of heresy and sentence of the Grand Brittanic Inquisitor had actually been read out. Through the observation screen I had seen the executioner's hand reaching for the ceremonial black lever …. I had not closed my eyes.

In theory, being burned at the stake took a micro-millisecond or so. It was a humane way to be executed, pain was out of the question. I had seen a man in a gaudily embroidered uniform enter the observation room and shoot the executioner with a resonance pistol. The executioner had fallen neatly in two pieces. Only someone very senior in the papal admiralty could have had the authority and nerve to do that.

Without another word, he seized me by the penitent's cowl and hair beneath it, then began slamming my face into the desk. Bright blue stars of pain flashed before my eyes each time, then a brilliant green nova of light swamped everything else. I looked up and around. The horrified bishop was staring at an arm severed at the elbow.

The same man who had killed the executioner stood holding a gold resonance pistol. Heat shimmered around the barrel vanes, and the impellers were whining softly. There were only three of them, and they were answerable only to the pope. In some matters even the pope could not command them, and they made decisions as a war council. The battle-maestro spoke to some device woven into the sleeve of his jacket. Two orderlies hurried into the room. One snatched up the bishop's severed arm and hurried out, the other swabbed my face with something intensely cold that eased the pain.

He then scanned me with a diagnostat. There was a brief hiss, and the tang of burning meat. Luckily for you the cartilage was not broken. The battle-maestro slowly walked to stand about ten feet in front of me, his arms folded and his head bowed. I had not known that people existed who could treat a bishop in that way. I could have split him from the head to the penis. As it is, well, his arm is doubtless being attached even as I speak.

I do apologise for letting your bashing go so far. I was watching you read on a monitor two rooms away, and it took some moments to run here. The second-most important man in the Papal Supradiom and the most powerful man alive? The shock on my face must have been plain. Even though I had spent most of my life defying stupidity wearing the garments of authority, this was beyond what even I could imagine. So far we have encountered sixteen species of reasonably intelligent apes on four worlds.

We have established missions to educate them, and begun to convert them to the word of the gospel. We have also conquered two more sentient species whose ancestors were writing books on philosophy while ours were learning to make Earth's first spears. You must know all, this however. Our inquisitors are currently on their worlds, destroying alien temples and religious datacrystals, and burning heretics.

We also bombed another world down to the bedrock when they defied our missionaries. I wrote a tract against it—but you probably know all that. Now … now there is something else. It is highly advanced, and controls power that defies belief. A missionary cruiser encountered them, whatever they are. It transmitted back some scans from extreme range, then declared that it had activated its weapons and was closing to declare the mercy of the gospels. The next ship in that area of space found a cloud of molecules of the same mass as the cruiser.

Drone monitors registered no energy spike had been registered in that sector, however. Something vaporised the cruiser without using energy. However, it is clear that we might very quicky have our entire Papal Space Fleet reduced to gas with no more fuss or bother than the candles on an altar being extinguished after mass. Should that happen, the might that backs up the spiritual authority of the church will be gone.

There will be unrest, rebellion, schisms. You may even lead one. You have immense talent and drive, I have studied your file in detail. We need you, to put it bluntly. We need to advance the power and technology of our fleets and defences, and very, very quickly. As it stands, we can only guess how advanced this new species might be. It could be thousands of years ahead of us, or even more. The scans of its ship show only a twisted warp in space, and motion. Their first gunpowder weapons may be embedded in sandstone that is millions of years old.

The question is, do we stand a chance? Studies done on the Centaurus worlds have shown evidence of vaporisation without energy blasts. Surviving records indicate that they were a proselytising species, just like we are. Steps have been taken to redress our centuries of religious bullying and bigotry. The pope will die later today, along with selected cardinals. Heretics will be blamed, but a far more liberal set of replacements has been arranged. Already an edict has been sent out to all worlds for everyone with 'Inquisitor' in his title to be executed at once, and for all Christian missions to be abandoned and destroyed, but I fear that none of this will be enough.

Five drones have suddenly gone silent, and at least a dozen missionary ships have ceased to report back to their parish stations. We are going to have to fight. What I want to know is, do we have a chance? The supreme commander of the armed forces of an interstellar empire was asking me if we had a chance against a super-civilization millions of years old. Convent education was not geared to cope with matters like this, but I had a long history of studying forbidden truths and theories. Just think about it, they had advanced organisation, communication and their versions of cities long before humans evolved—".

I caught myself before uttering the heresy that humans were descended from apes, but Battle-Maestro Rodrigarian just smiled and nodded. Yes, that is a possibility. Blind chance may also be on our side.

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That is blind chance. Perhaps the Don Alverin sword is a similar act of blind chance. Perhaps no scientist of any species on any world in the history of the galaxy has ever been able to build a transmitter of temporally entangled matter—including those who fly the twist-warp ships. We may have something truly unique. We can advance ourselves time and again, and develop better and better weapons between the years and I am truly gratified.

Well now, do I have your cooperation? Will you read our tracts on weapons technology to William Tynedale? There was a pause in our dialogue, but it was not for dramatic effect. This might be a monstrous hoax. No order to destroy the missions might have gone out, and no conspiracy to kill the pope might exist. I glanced at his hands. He wore no ring.

Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Sheet Music by Robert Jones

I am a career eunuch after all, and I would have to sign a solemn oath to have a testicular transplant from cloned tissue before the church would sanction any marriage. If the truth be known, I love the dead William Tynedale more than I could ever love you. Look on the positive side, Lordship. This way you will have the only person who can influence the Tynedale Brothers by your side and totally within your control for as long as we both shall live. The ceremony took place within that very hour.

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Fifty seconds after concluding my vows, I was sitting with a radio transmitter in my hand and a prepared tract on weapons science and technology in front of me. My husband was sitting by my side. After I have broadcast this to my true love nothing will be the same. Look at the Journal. I have been a teacher, scientist, explorer, and now a nun. It will be , he will be twenty-two. I have always admired him, and thought his portraits quite enchanting.

Not a very seemly thing for a woman of the cloth to do, but then I am hardly the ideal template for the Scholastic Brides of Christ. Will you declare as much affection as your other, alternative selves? Please heed my words, for this time our world is in great peril from a terrible enemy. I have even more advanced principles for you to pass on to the generations who will follow you, and who will have developed the more advanced scholarship required to understand them. William, in this future … no, you would not believe my fate in this one future of many.

How I wish that I could hold you in my arms and be yours alone. Still, at least you can hear my voice and I may read your words in the Tynedale Journal, which seems always to have been rediscovered in William, we have love, and how many others who have each other in flesh truly have love? Listen now to these principles, and write with great care. William always wrote with great care. Reviewing the journal, I could not see any mistakes of importance in the many dozens of pages. I had been reading aloud, trying to imagine myself as myself of the earlier, alternative futures. It was still open at the last page.

The floor of the impact shelter shuddered beneath our feet as yet another near-lightspeed impactor slipped past our defences and detonated. We had countered the molecular disruption weapon of the twist-warp ships, yet it was only one of many. Although none of their weapons were absolutely invincible, they seemed to outnumber us by many orders of magnitude.

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Earth and humanity were running out of sheer resources. The fabrication asteroids can be defended, and even moved, as can the hatcheries and maintenance ships. Then even your university will be doomed. Even if you survived the shockwaves, you would be marooned down here forever. As the most senior surviving member of the imperial family, I cannot allow that. The university staff and data lattice libraries will be dispersed to our factory strongholds.

Then Earth will be left to its fate. There was no reply that was quite appropriate to a pronouncement like that. Chester sat in silence, looking glum and lost in his thoughts. I picked up the textpad with the latest transmission to the Tynedale Brothers and began to read. You are now the ruling monarch. Back then I was a highness, not a majesty.

In all my other selves' transmissions I have just been a clever girl, telling a boy that she rather fancies him, and expressing her regrets that she cannot ask him for a date. William Tynedale knows those Michelles, he does not know me. You are the empress now, you answer to nobody under the rule of the Solarian Empire. I sat down at the desk and put a sensor against my forehead, then thought a few new lines of text into the pad.

The room shook as another NLS impactor detonated, and the lights dimmed for a moment. As I looked up, Chester was already on his feet, and staring nervously at a long crack in the ceiling. They never suspected that we would put our entire battle fleet into capturing one of their twist-warp ships intact.

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Now we have reverse-engineered some of their basic technology, and they want to annihilate us before we can fabricate a twist-warp fleet. The twist-warp ship was just a scout, yet it took three of our heavy cruisers with it. Even then I suspect that we only disabled it with a lucky shot. Our weapons are the equal of theirs, it is only in their phase-hysteresis shields and space distortion cloaking technology that they are seriously ahead.

Transmit the principles back to William Tynedale, and the physics will be folklore by the time humanity reaches the next version of I had no doubt of that. Apart from the introduction, the text had been prepared by our very finest educators.

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In theory the Tynedale Brothers would be able to construct a crude resonance pistol, and perhaps even a gravity induction unit capable of propelling one of their wooden warships through the air and even into space. Warnings about flying too high and not being able to breathe had been included, of course. With the knowledge in my hands England might have conquered the entire world by the next Even a lunar landing might not be out of the question within the Tynedale Brother's lifetime.

But then what, and why? I glanced at Chester. Manic, headlong progress had been his entire existence. The word "why" was reserved only for experimental results that did not quite match expectations. What if the twist-warp ships are only one of several dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of levels of response? A wasp stings you. Its nest-mates swarm after you. You retaliate with insecticide. They breed immunity into their warriors. You resort to a flamethrower. They then start to breed prodigiously, and hide their nests in places that you cannot afford to burn.

You blanket the continent with thermonuclear warheads. They learn to build ocean-going nests. They may well have had hundreds of millions of years to develop their weapons, Chester, and it does not seem likely they will be armed with only swatters. Perhaps we can counter their swatters, perhaps we can even tell William Tynedale about their insecticides and flame throwers, but where does it end? Perhaps when one of them decides that we are too advanced, and bypasses several layers of defence to the anti-wasp thermonuclear bomb. It seems to me that they will always go layer by layer, and that we shall always keep learning from them.

The aliens in the twist-warp ships do not. Our temporal entanglement link is our only advantage, but it is a massive advantage. Analysis of the Journal indicates that we have advanced our technology by an estimated thousand years since my first words to William Tynedale, yet where has it taken us? We are like mice challenging tigers, yet we are holding our ground.

The surface of the Earth has been reduced to gravel by the NLS impactors. We do not even know the location of the aliens' home planet, or even if they have such a place. We have damaged a dozen of their ships, destroyed three and captured one in the five years since the war began. They have disintegrated seven thousand of ours. They attacked our ships first. It was completely unprovoked, our commanders, captains and admirals have been under absolutely binding orders to approach the twist-warp ships with their weapons powered down.

Ninety ships were vaporised while approaching them in friendship before we began to fight back. We Solarians look dangerous. The twist-warp ships may be piloted by shepherds, who protect their peaceful client worlds.

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We must seem like wolves, all ready to prey on anything weak with our warships. They are no threat, they do not even have starships. We are different, and we are not beaten. Now it is time to strike back. It is within your power alone, your majesty. William Tynedale listens to you. That gives you unimaginable power. The physical journal and sword were only discovered months ago, when the Chesters' crypt was opened. Why had they been hidden? Hidden they certainly were. The sword and journal were sealed into the lead coffin of Sir Percy Chester, a man who had nothing to do with the Tynedales.

That grave is always discovered in You are always born, and you are always a great admirer of William Tynedale. You are what the physicists call a temporal immutable. The pasts are unchanging, but can be added to. I have a general idea of the theoretical principles, even if I do not follow all the mathematics. Tell the Tynedales not to hide the sword. That way we can continuously communicate our advances to those who follow them, we can have a constant feedback. In six hundred years we could advance ten million years, even a hundred million!

By the time we are standing here in , humanity could be the master race of the galaxy, or even the entire Proxiarate Cluster of galaxies. A committee of the finest minds in the Solarian Empire was commissioned to study this very proposition. Their computer models are the basis of what I say to you now. Even your coronation has not yet taken place, you are technically still a princess, not an empress.

All this was put in a queue behind matters of higher strategic priority. The NLS impactors, most obviously. It is entangled with itself, six hundred years in the past, it can pour the learning of the present into the past, spawning an infinite number of increasingly advanced pasts to lift us to unimaginable heights. The decision is yours, your majesty, and it holds the only means to fight a race a hundred million years more advanced than our own.

What do you say? My mind was already made up, but I had been embroiled in court intrigues and politics ever since I had been able to hold a coherent conversation. I allowed a suitable dramatic pause, frowning and nibbling at my lower lip all the while. I want no interruptions while I am transmitting to my long-dead friend. Chester called guards and lackeys, gave orders, then sent them away. He applied a seal card to the door, then bowed deeply to me. Now you may sit and listen to the show, but please refrain from wry expressions or silly giggles while I speak of intimate matters to my most platonic of friends.

For the fifth time, it is your most admiring Michelle, speaking to you from six hundred years in your future. We find ourselves under attack, and pressed dangerously and desperately hard by very, very hostile and mighty alien enemies. They are described in my previous communication. For all our military strength we cannot even hold our ground.

Five years ago, a star cruiser captained by Duke Mandroniter fired on and shattered a small alien ship. Since then all of humanity has found itself at war with a race far older than you could ever imagine. Certain principles and devices employed by the enemy must now be communicated to the philosophers and artisans of your time, in order to give us an advantage in this war that is to begin six hundred years in your future.

I read on, detailing the principles of the very best of our weapons. Professor Chester had not yet realised that I had spoken no endearments to my soul mate and true love in medieval London. All was going well as far as Chester was concerned, all was according to plan. What had not been factored in was the tradition that the supreme commander of the Solarian Imperial War Force had to go armed at all times.

To be more precise, he thought he had everything under control. Unfortunately the inhibition block that he had placed in the software of my antique ceremonial resonance pistol had shown up in a programming scan that I had conducted in secret. My father had taught me paranoia, even though he had managed to see very little of me before his death. All of my technical gentlemen in waiting had assured me that the weapon was fully functional and ready for use—thus I knew that I could trust nobody.

My mother had taught me optronics, and by means of seventeen carefully placed optical fibres I had bypassed the control and regulation unit of my ceremonial weapon. It would not function as a resonance pistol, but the powerful initiation laser in the charge cell could cut through a half inch of steel. To an external software scan, my weapon looked harmless, but had I a need for a weapon, and it was still a weapon.

I had thought an assassination attempt was being planned, but now I knew better. They wish to use it to continually advance the past from the future—but they are wrong! For the sake of humanity, publish none of this and hide the sword," I cried, completely without warning, drawing my weapon as I spoke the words. Chester was already in the act of drawing his own resonance pistol, but my laser cut diagonally across his body, messily slicing him and his chair apart. Next I fired at a spot beside the door which concealed the power coil that operated the door, jamming it. My third shot destroyed the monitor bubble.

Those outside retaliated by cutting the power to the lights and flooding anaesthetic gas into the room, but by now I had activated the targetry lamp on my pistol and hurried across to Chester's body. In a coat pocket I found an oxygen bulb and mask. I took a deep breath, then continued my plea to William Tynedale. Hide the sword, destroy your journal, forget all of this and forget me!

Our modern world is a huge, medieval kingdom. As a result they have lived in peace for tens of thousands of years, but we have had practically no advances in moral teachings since your own time. I breathed from the bulb, then aimed my targetry lamp at the door and fired the laser. There was a scream of pain, and a metallic clang as the power jack was dropped. The sound of more feet approaching. I turned the radio off. Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.

Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. His other agents aim at like delight? To touch the fire, the weather being cold? And once made perfect, never lost again. That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?

Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. For where a heart is hard they make no battery. Yet should I be in love by touching thee. Comes breath perfumed, that breedeth love by smelling. Should by his stealing in disturb the feast? Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, wrack n. VVracke wreck, loss, shipwreck Ven. Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, grin v. His meaning struck her ere his words begun. But blessed bankrupt that by love so thriveth! Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! Till his breath breatheth life in her again. Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth; cheer v.

Had not his clouded with his brow's repine; brow n. Shone like the moon in water seen by night. Or in the ocean drenched, or in the fire? Do I delight to die, or life desire? But now I died, and death was lively joy. But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. To drive infection from the dangerous year! May say, the plague is banished by thy breath.

What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? Set thy seal manual on my wax-red lips. Are they not quickly told and quickly gone? Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble? Or being early plucked is sour to taste. Do summon us to part, and bid good night. Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face. Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; insulter n. That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack. Or like the froward infant stilled with dandling. While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. And yields at last to every light impression? Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: But then woos best when most his choice is froward.

Foule harsh, rough, hard Ven. What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis plucked: Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. He carries thence incaged in his breast. To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. And on his neck her yoking arms she throws. He on her belly falls, she on her back. To clip Elysium and to lack her joy. Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw; maw n. She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. You have no reason to withhold me so. Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill. And whom he strikes his cruel tushes slay. As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

But having thee at vantage — wondrous dread! Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. I feared thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. Sawst thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? Grew I not faint? But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast. Distempring disorder, derange, disturb, confuse Ven. As air and water do abate the fire. Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. Or at the roe which no encounter dare. Marke note, pay attention [to], take notice [of] Ven. Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. To stop the loud pursuers in their yell; yell n. Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear. As if another chase were in the skies. To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell. And being low, never relieved by any. For love can comment upon every woe.

The night is spent. And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall. Roman goddess associated with the Moon, chastity, and hunting Lest she should steale a kisse and die forsworne. Lest she should steal a kiss, and die forsworn. Roman goddess of the moon; one of the identities of Diana Ven. To shame the sun by day and her by night.

Surfets sickness brought on by excess Sweare natures death, for framing thee so faire. Swear Nature's death for framing thee so fair. As mountain snow melts with the midday sun. Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.

Or butcher sire that reaves his son of life. But gold that's put to use more gold begets. Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. And will not let a false sound enter there; false adj. But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. You do it for increase: O strange excuse, increase n. When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse! Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves, bereave v. As caterpillars do the tender leaves. Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies. Do burn themselves for having so offended. Fold in the object that did feed her sight. Having lost the fair discovery of her way.

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  • Thomas Campion. Though your Strangeness Frets my Heart..
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How love is wise in folly, foolish witty: And still the choir of echoes answer so. In such-like circumstance, with such-like sport. End without audience, and are never done. That cedar-tops and hills seem burnished gold. May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other. And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. Appals her senses and her spirit confounds. They all strain court'sy who shall cope him first. They basely fly and dare not stay the field. But back retires to rate the boar for murther. In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. Shaking their scratched ears, bleeding as they go. And, sighing it again, exclaims on Death. Hard fauourd ugly, unattractive, unsightly, hideous Ven. Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet? Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant's heart. And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead. What may a heavy groan advantage thee? Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?

Since her best work is ruined with thy rigour. And with his strong course opens them again. Both crystals, where they viewed each other's sorrow, crystal n. Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. And flatters her it is Adonis' voice. Who is but drunken when she seemeth drowned. Not to believe, and yet too credulous! Despair, and hope, makes thee ridiculous: In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame; blame, to to be blamed, blameworthy Ven.

Imperious supreme of all mortal things. I railed on thee, fearing my love's decease. I did but act, he's author of thy slander. Could rule them both without ten women's wit. With Death she humbly doth insinuate; insinuate v. His victories, his triumphs and his glories. Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind! And, Beauty dead, black Chaos comes again. Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.

Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn. Into the deep-dark cabins of her head; cabin n. By their suggestion gives a deadly groan: Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound. With purple tears that his wound wept was drenched: But stole his blood and seemed with him to bleed. Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now. That makes more gashes where no breach should be: So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)
Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)
Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)
Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)
Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)
Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words) Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)

Related Though your strangeness frets my heart (modern words)

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