![Image 2 of 9 for Poems: by Michael Drayton Esquire. Viz. The barons warres, Englands heroicall epistles, Idea, Odes, The legends of Robert, Duke of Normandie, Matilda, Pierce Gaveston, and, Great Cromwell, The Owle, Pastorals, contayning Eglogues, with the Man in the moone. LONDON: Printed by W. Stansby for Iohn Swethwicke [sic], and are to be sold at his shop in Saint Dunstanes Church-yard in Fleet-streete vnder the Diall, not dated but 1619 BOUND WITH: The Battaile of Agincourt.](https://liberantiquus.cdn.bibliopolis.com/pictures/4626-1.jpg?width=768&height=1000&fit=bounds&v=1669653336)
Sonnet Lxi: Since There's No Help
Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes—
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might’st him yet recover!
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