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LI.
Thus
can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer
when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why
should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting
is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then
find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then
should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged
speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with
my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire of perfect'st
love being made,
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his
fiery race;
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my
jade;
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.
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