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John Donne - The Will
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Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe, 
    Great Love, some legacies ; I here bequeath 
    Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see ; 
    If they be blind, then, Love, I give them thee ;
    My tongue to Fame ; to ambassadors mine ears ;
            To women, or the sea, my tears ;
        Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore
    By making me serve her who had twenty more,
That I should give to none, but such as had too much before.

    My constancy I to the planets give ;
    My truth to them who at the court do live ;
    My ingenuity and openness,
    To Jesuits ; to buffoons my pensiveness ;
    My silence to any, who abroad hath been ;
            My money to a Capuchin :
        Thou, Love, taught`st me, by appointing me
    To love there, where no love received can be,
Only to give to such as have an incapacity.

    My faith I give to Roman Catholics ;
    All my good works unto the Schismatics
    Of Amsterdam ; my best civility
    And courtship to an University ;
    My modesty I give to soldiers bare ;
            My patience let gamesters share :
        Thou, Love, taught`st me, by making me
    Love her that holds my love disparity,
Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity.

    I give my reputation to those
    Which were my friends ; mine industry to foes ;
    To schoolmen I bequeath my doubtfulness ;
    My sickness to physicians, or excess ;
    To nature all that I in rhyme have writ ; 
            And to my company my wit :
        Thou, Love, by making me adore
    Her, who begot this love in me before,
Taught`st me to make, as though I gave, when I do but restore.

    To him for whom the passing-bell next tolls,
    I give my physic books ; my written rolls
    Of moral counsels I to Bedlam give ;
    My brazen medals unto them which live
    In want of bread ; to them which pass among
            All foreigners, mine English tongue :
        Though, Love, by making me love one
    Who thinks her friendship a fit portion
For younger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproportion.

    Therefore I`ll give no more, but I`ll undo
    The world by dying, because love dies too.
    Then all your beauties will be 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-dial in a grave :
        Thou, Love, taught`st me by making me
    Love her who doth neglect both me and thee,
To invent, and practise this one way, to annihilate all three.
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